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A NATURALIST'S 



RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



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BY 

CHARLES C. ABBOTT. 









NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 

1884. 



^ v 



Copyright, 1884, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

A Word at the Start, in lieu of a Preface .... 5 

Chap. I. — Our Mammals in General 17 

II. — Glimpses of Wild-Cats 22 

III. — Wicked Weasels 27 

IV. — Our Common Mink 33 

Y.— The Skunk 3S 

YL— The Otter . 46 

VII. — The Flying-Squirrel 51 

VIII.— The Chipmunk 58 

IX.— Wild Mice 64 

X. — Musk-Rats and Squirrels as Weather-Prophets . .73 
XI. — Does the Opossum play " 'Possum " ? . . . .84 

XII. — Our Birds in General 93 

XIII. — The Migration of Inland Bird3 97 

XIV. — A Short Study of Birds' Nests 124 

XV.— The Songs of Birds 136 

XVI. — Chats and Wrens: a Summer's Study .... 145 

XVII. — The Carolina Wren: a Year of its Life . . .153 

XVIII. — Do Swallows hibernate ? . . . . . . .159 

XIX. — A Secluded Corner 183 

XX. — Three Beeches 191 

XXI. — Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks 198 

XXII.— Early Morning 201 

XXIIL— A Walk in Winter 209 

XXIV. — Feeding Habits of Kingfishers . . . . .214 

XXV.— The Saw-Whet and other Owls . . . .218 

XXVI. — Notes on our Herons 226 

XXVII.— Notes on the Wood-Duck . 237 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVIII. — A Southerly Rain 242 

XXIX. — Short Studies of Turtles 250 

XXX. — Uz Gaunt's Talk about Turtles 276 

XXXI. — Short Studies of Snakes 2S2 

XXXII. — Uz Gaunt's Snake-Story 307 

XXXIII. — Short Studies of Batrachians 312 

XXXIY. — Brief Notes on Fishes 351 

XXXV. — Brief Notes on Fishes (continued) . . . .372 
XXXVI. — Brief Notes on Fishes (concluded) . . . .402 

XXXVII. — Traces of Voices in Fishes 433 

Appendix 447 

Index 481 



A WORD AT THE START, 

IN LIEU OP A PREFACE. 



When I happen out for a stroll, the difficulty that 
besets me is not what to seek — for to ramble without an 
object is an abomination — but what to choose of the end- 
less variety of objects worthy of attention. I do not like 
to determine this after I have started, but prefer saying 
to myself, " I will watch the birds to-day," or, " I will 
hunt up the meadow-mice." To do this, at once gives 
an additional interest to a contemplated ramble ; and, 
in all my experience, I have never yet failed to find some 
trace, at least, of that object to observe which I took 
the walk. 

Avoid the highways when you take a walk. Even if 
well shaded, they are abandoned now to the pestiferous 
English sparrows ; and if you are really intent on a good 
tramp of a few miles, do not turn aside for a stretch of 
swamp. If you have any fear of wet feet, be properly 
shod before starting. It too often happens that the 
sights best worth seeing come to you when in a bit of 
wet meadow. The swamp-sparrows, that are such sweet 
songsters ; the marsh-wrens and the king-rails and soras 
will not come to the dry ground at the edge of the mead- 



6 A WORD AT THE START. 

ow and sing and show themselves for your benefit. If 
you want to enjoy them, you must go to their haunts ; 
and once there, if you are really fond of birds, you will 
never regret it. There are neglected, tangled, briery 
nooks in every neighborhood that will repay frequent 
visits. There some of the best bird-music is to be heard. 
In an old field I know of, too barren to be worth cultivat- 
ing, and unpleasantly strong with the odors of Jamestown 
weed, there is every summer a whole colony of Carolina 
wrens, and their songs are not excelled by any of our 
birds, except certain thrushes and the rose-breasted gros- 
beak. In this same field, too, I am sure of finding scores 
of garter-snakes, and the pretty creatures add a charm to 
the place. Finally, nowhere else are there so many 
gorgeously- colored dragon-flies as about this same neg- 
lected, weed - grown field. By very many, walks are 
thought to be enjoyable only in what is commonly called 
pleasant weather. What constitutes a pleasant day, as 
distinguished from an unpleasant one, is not very clear. 
If I have seen something new, that day is pleasant, how- 
ever the thermometer registers or the winds blow. Surely, 
too, after a month of sunny days, a steady, pouring rain 
is delicious, not to look at merely, but to be about in it. 
It is charm enough to tempt one out to see how the 
birds and mice and squirrels, and the snakes, frogs, and 
insects pass their time when it rains. The cunning you 
will see displayed by them will compensate for the soak- 
ing you may get. 

If the weather be cold, walk fast and see fast, and, if 
you have well-trained eyes, no feeling of cold will annoy 
you ; unless, indeed, you are needlessly bundled up, and 
do nothing but wonder where the thermometer ranges. 
A good rule for one who walks in winter is, to forget 
that there are such things as thermometers, and never to 



A WORD AT THE START. ? 

look at one when leaving the door-step. Perhaps it is 
snowing. Well, the very creatures that the observant 
walker loves to see can not more readily dodge the snow- 
storm than he can ; and is it not a sufficient incentive 
to learn what the birds and mammals are about when 
snowed up, to warrant a ramble over snow-clad fields 
and in the leafless woods ? Who that has seen a cardinal 
grosbeak in the full glory of his crimson dress, perched 
upon a bare twig, with nothing but untrodden snow for a 
background, and heard his cheery whistle come ringing 
through the crisp air, can ever forget it ? Such a sight 
is not to be witnessed from your sitting-room windows. 
No, no, there is reason for rambling at all times, with 
perhaps one exception. In the noon of midsummer 
days it is proper to remain in-doors to rest, to keep cool, 
if happily you can. Nature herself, just then, is taking 
a nap. 

A word, now, as to where my home is, for I have 
never rambled elsewhere. I will not attempt a descrip- 
tion ; for why, indeed, should I expose its nakedness ? It 
came to me not through purchase, but by the accident of 
birth. Just two centuries ago, a lad came from Notting- 
ham, England, to what was then a mere ghost of a vil- 
lage, but is now the present city of Philadelphia. By 
chance he came into " the Jerseys," and, when of age, 
chose, as a site for the home he purposed building, a 
tract on Crosswicks Creek, a navigable stream that enters 
the Delaware River at Bordentown. By trade a wheel- 
wright, but by choice a farmer, he throve well, and added 
hundreds of acres to his original purchase ; and now, 
two centuries later, I find myself anchored within sight 
of where my respected ancestor dwelt. Tes, and writ- 
ing these lines at a curious old desk that belonged to his 



8 A WORD AT THE START 

thrifty son, who bought other lands, built boats, and died 
early of grief, because the breaking out of the Revolution 
spoiled his plans. The predecessors of my ancestors, as 
possessors of the soil, merit a moment's attention. These 
dusky-skinned natives were greatly attached to the neigh- 
borhood, and the abundance of their handiwork in stone 
still testifies to their prolonged occupancy of the country. 
Not only are there hundreds of their relics on every acre, 
but there is also a fragmentary tradition that, not far from 
my door-yard, Oconio-coco-coco-cadgi-cadgi-cadonko had 
his wigwam ; and not far off, under an enormous white- 
oak, fought single-handed with the fiercest of cougars, 
long the terror of the neighborhood, and slew him with 
a flint knife. Oeonio's grave is supposed to be quite 
near, but I have never sought to disturb his bones, 
much as I would like to have them, nor have I even 
looked for a wonderful stone pipe that was buried with 
him. Perhaps it is all true. I accept it as such, be- 
cause it is pleasant to recall the story, as told me nearly 
forty years ago. I have often tried to determine, in 
various ways, how long these Indians roamed along 
this terrace and over these fields and meadows, but 
have not as yet reached a satisfactory conclusion. That 
they were here for a long time can not be questioned, 
and even now, so long after their departure, the traces 
of their former presence lends a charm to our quiet 
rambles ; for, whenever we happen upon bare ground, 
the chances are that we shall see an arrow - head, and 
what a wealth of pleasing fancies even a single arrow- 
head may bring up! How many possible occurrences 
may be connected with this bit of chipped jasper ! So it 
is, indeed, the country over; and often an unsuspected 
mine of pleasure is lying exposed to the gaze of those 
who, walking abroad, see nothing and learn nothing. 



A WORD AT THE START. 9 

Relic-hunting, properly conducted, is an art, and had 
better be treated as such. It is too laborious for quiet 
rambling— as the eyes must always be fixed on the 
ground. 

Here, to-day, much as in the olden time, are the broad 
stretches of meadow that, skirting the Delaware, are my 
constant delight and the scenes of my happiest days out- 
of-doors. Back from the river, more than half a mile, 
and parallel to it, is the elevated plateau that extends east- 
ward and seaward. From the one to the other there is 
no sloping, intervening stretch of land, other than the 
meadows. To pass from the uplands to the lowlands 
you must trip down a steep descent of eighty feet. Steep 
as it is, it is well wooded, and is the " hill-side " of which 
I shall say much hereafter. It is a jolly place for those 
given to quiet rambles. There the earliest spring flowers 
are to be found, and to gather the earliest bloom of the 
year is surely worth an effort. There, too, tarry the fore- 
runners of the flight of summer songsters that gladden the 
hearts of all who hear their melody, for no subsequent 
songs are so charming as the first notes of the pioneer 
thrush, red-wing, or oriole. 

My house stands on the very edge of this terrace, and 
is so placed that from my windows I can see the meadows 
below and the river beyond. A substantial structure it 
is, and it answered my great-grandfathers' modest wants 
though it does not suit me ; still I am compensated for 
what it lacks, in the oaks, beeches, and locusts that sur- 
round it, as it is under them that I live. So much, then, 
as to the place where I live. Evidently there is not a 
single romantic feature in the neighborhood. The first 
Europeans who settled here were Quakers, and the plain- 



10 A WORD AT TEE START. 

n ess of the surroundings doubtless had its influence in 
deciding their choice. So strict were they, as their meet- 
ing records show, that probably they would have covered 
up any natural beauty that might have had a tendency 
to foster a poetical sentiment among their people ; just 
as they desired their blooming maidens, if their color 
was too bright, to dust their cheeks with flour before at- 
tending meeting. It proved to be a " concern " upon 
the minds of the elders lest the aforesaid rosy cheeks 
should distract the attention of the young men who 
sat on benches so placed that they could look upon 
the fair faces of these maidens. Even in such prosaic 
times the young men thought a pretty girl was more 
to be desired that a drowsy sermon, and their seniors 
chided them for so thinking. The descendants of these 
Quakers, happily less strict, still assemble in the old 
meeting-house. 

But long years ago a gifted man, Archibald, nephew 
of William Bartram, the naturalist and traveler, thought 
otherwise of this neighborhood and the young maidens 
of his day. Of these meadows and the wooded bluff he 
sang: 

" Sweet Nottingham ! thy charms I prize, 
Where yonder hills abruptly rise, 
Which gird thy valleys green ; 
At dawn, at noon, at close of day, 
Along these heights I love to stray 
And gaze upon the scene." 
This, and much more, he found to say about the spot 
during his many visits, just eighty years ago — found it 
to say, too, in spite of living in Bartram's garden on the 
Schuylkill, where there was so much to attract a poet and 
naturalist. The matter, perhaps, is explicable from the 
fact that a maiden was even more attractive than the 



A WORE AT TEE START H 

neighborhood, and a suspicion crosses my mind that, 
childlike, he "made believe" to have discovered the 
beauty of the locality, hoping it would please the dark- 
eyed damsel. In this he succeeded. She was pleased, 
and all would have gone well, had he not, so soon after, 
passed away. From about this time these meadows and 
the bluff attracted many naturalists of repute, then living 
in Philadelphia. Conrad the elder, botanist and miner- 
alogist ; Conrad the geologist, his son ; and Rafinesque, 
Say, Le Seure, Bonaparte, Wilson, and others, all rambled 
about here. Indeed, the names of some, cut by them- 
selves, are still to be deciphered on one of the old beeches 
that guards a famous spring, where they were wont to 
halt at noon-time. 

An instructive, pleasant, leisurely stroll is not un- 
profitable, even if the more striking objects of natural 
history are absent. It is a sad error to suppose that the 
most familiar of our birds, to say nothing of other forms 
of life, both vegetable and animal, can ever be so familiar 
that nothing further can be learned by observing them. 
There is a percentage of probability so large that we may 
detect something quite new to us in the habits even of 
the little social chipping sparrow, that it is unwise even 
for the experienced ornithologist to pass them by un- 
heeded. If it is early summer, you may happen to find 
its nest. Of course, you know it is always lined with 
hair. Well, look at the nest you have found, neverthe- 
less, if you can without disturbing it, and perhaps you 
may find a different material used. I did once, and once 
only, and it was a more pleasant discovery than many I 
have since made. As I continued my walk that same 
day, I pondered long on the subject of variation in nest- 
building, and found half a dozen other nests of birds be- 
fore I returned. One was a delicate, pensile structure, 



12 A WORD AT TEE START. 

apparently too fragile to hold safely the three little eggs 
it contained ; yet with them was an egg of the Cowpen 
bird, larger than the three others together. 

If a walk is taken for mental as well as bodily exer- 
cise, it is most unwise to ignore familiar objects, or refuse 
to ramble because there i§ nothing to see. When once 
the impression of nothing to see gains possession of a 
person, he is in a bad way, as he is deprived of one great 
source of pleasure, and must acquire his knowledge at 
second hand or not at all. Not that I think little of a 
book-knowledge of Nature, for I read many books with 
delight ; but the best book is that which sends us out- 
of-doors, in search of information, rather than to the 
library. 

Walks may be taken alone or in company ; but if you 
go with a companion, be sure he is thoroughly sympa- 
thetic, or the ramble will be in vain. The best company 
are those that live closest to Nature, and he is wise who is 
friendly with the old trappers and fishermen who still lin- 
ger in every village. If the rambler is young, and learn- 
ing Nature's A, B, C's, an opportunity to question an old 
trapper is something to be prized. More can be learned 
of them, by judicious questions, than by reference to a 
cyclopaedia. Aspiring, then, to be an accomplished ram- 
bler, to know how to stroll profitably, be not less on the 
lookout for those whose business is with Nature than 
for those lower forms of intelligence we call, collectively, 
animal life. A chance conversation discovered to me 
one companion of many of my walks. When a mere 
boy, Uz &J, Gaunt lived in this neighborhood, having a 
little cottage adjoining my grandfather's woods ; and 
he, above all others, gave me ray first lesson in practical 
zoology. 



A WORD AT TEE START. 13 

When I first met him he was about seventy years old, 
and ten years later he appeared no older. Had he not 
been bent and disabled, finally, from severe rheumatic 
attacks, I doubt if any one could have guessed his age. 
His hair remained dark and thick, his forehead showed 
few wrinkles, his eye was as bright and piercing, at the 
last, as when, a score of years ago, he would point out 
the green head of a mallard in the tall grass and bid me 
shoot. Often I would fire on faith, not able to detect 
anything but the waving grass wherein he saw a cunning 
mallard hiding. 

TJz was the happy owner of a few acres, most of which 
were not arable. The five acres that immediately sur- 
rounded his house were shut in from the world by a 
swampy tract that remained undisturbed. Tempting of- 
fers were made for the valuable timber that grew upon 
it, but Uz had enough to meet his wants, and turned a 
deaf ear to all who suggested his parting with the trees. 
" They were my only companions when a child," he once 
remarked to me, " and I could not part with them now. 
I'm not chicken-hearted, that I know of, but to sell those 
trees would be like selling my own flesh and blood. 
They are a part of my life now, and my sister and I make 
out to live on the little patches of cleared land about the 
house. No, so long as I live I want the trees to keep 
me company." 

" Then it is from the fact that you played all day un- 
der these trees that you became a naturalist," I suggested 
at the time. 

" Yes, you hit it there. Of course, I went a bit 
to school, and father had two or three books which 
I read in a little, but my learnin' came from out- 
doors. Why, the birds seemed to know me after a 
while, and I gained their good-will by lettin' 'em alone. 



14 A WORD AT THE START. 

My eyes would be on 'em all day, but I kept my hands 
off." 

" But you carried a gun after a while," I remarked. 

" Yes, but not for some time. Father made me work 
some, and when I did go gunnin' it was at proper times, 
and I didn't shoot birds in spring just to count their tail- 
feathers." This was a quiet dig at me, for Uz had but 
little patience with ornithology as I had attempted to 
study it. The minutiae of color and anatomical structure 
he gave the go-by, but knew the habits of birds as I never 
expect to. 

In later years Uz left to his sister the care both of his 
house and little farm, and was ever on the alert, with gun 
in hand, to secure what game might be at hand. The 
number of rabbits he killed every autumn I dare not 
mention ; and, in the proper season, woodcock, quails, 
and ducks daily rewarded his rambles about their haunts. 
As a duck-shooter he had no equal in the neighborhood, 
and it was in this sport that he most delighted. For 
twenty years, during wilich I knew him well and saw 
him often, his sole occupation was that of a hunter and 
trapper, and, happily, he combined with these all the es- 
sential requirements of a practical naturalist. 

To him I feel that I am indebted in great part for my 
liking for the great world of out-of-doors, and for a total 
indifference to the artificial, pent-up life of the city. He 
it was who taught me how to stroll leisurely about when 
I felt so disposed, and to see a wealth of wonder every- 
where I went. It is proper, therefore, that I should here 
give him the credit that is his due ; and, in so doing, 
point out to others the desirability of seeking out in their 
respective neighborhoods other Uz Gaunts, and profiting 
by their acquaintance. There are few villages that do 
not contain some one who is better informed than his 



A WORD AT TEE START. 15 

fellows as to the natural history of the neighborhood ; 
and it is possible that what you fail to discover during 
your rambles will be learned by applying to the practi- 
cal Uz Gaunt of your neighborhood. Such was my ex- 
perience, and, in advising my readers to adopt a similar 
coarse, I can only hope that they may be so fortunate as 
to meet with one whose love of Nature was as sincere 
as was that of my old friend and teacher; and, that 
they can the better realize what manner of man he 
was, I have ventured to add " specimen days " spent 
with him, and record some of his observations in his 
own words. 

As a result of many years of rambling about home, I 
have seen most if not all of the animals that are now to be 
found here ; and, whenever I saw any of them under cir- 
cumstances that were of peculiar interest, I made a note 
of it. At various times, and in various publications, as 
" Hardwicke's Science Gossip " and " Nature " (London), 
" The American Naturalist " (Philadelphia), " Science " 
(Cambridge), and " The Popular Science Monthly " (New 
York), some of these field-notes have already appeared. 
The willingness, on the part of the publishers of these 
various serials, to have me reproduce them in their pres- 
ent form, is here gratefully acknowledged. 

Rather than mar the pages with innumerable brackets, 
inclosing the scientific names of the animals I have had 
occasion to mention, I have added a complete list of the 
mammals, birds, reptiles, batrachians, and fishes of Mer- 
cer County, New Jersey. The common or local names I 
have used in the body of the work are here repeated, with 
the name now adopted by the systematists. This list will 
prove, I hope, of some value to those interested in the 
subject of the geographical distribution of our animals ; 
and will, at least, prevent any difficulty in properly iden- 



16 A WORD AT THE START. 

tifying any animal to which I have referred under its com- 
mon or local name. 

If these " notes/' the gatherings of many years, shall 
serve to amuse or instruct my young readers, or those of 
maturer years, if any such there be, then I shall be quite 
satisfied with having preserved that which is here given 
to the public. 

C. 0. A. 

Prospect Hill, Trenton, New Jersey, March 1, I884. 



EAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



CHAPTER I. 



OUR MAMMALS m GENERAL. 



The marked changes that have taken place in the 
surface of our country since its settlement, more than 
two centuries ago, have naturally had their effect upon 
the fauna. This is realized most readily when we com- 
pare our present meager list of mammals with the goodly 
array of "mightie beestes" that once roamed through 
our primeval forests. Even earlier — in the Indian or pre- 
historic times — faunal changes occurred, of even greater 
magnitude than any that have since taken place, for, 
partly through climatic change, but more through inces- 
sant persecution, the moose, reindeer, and bison had dis- 
appeared from !N"ew Jersey, and the mastodon had be- 
come extinct, long before the arrival of the whites. 

The bear, elk, deer, wolf, cougar, and beaver still 
remained in vast numbers, however; and, although the 
Indians were essentially a hunting people, and depended 
largely upon the product of the chase, yet the many ani- 
mals that were once common here might have held their 
own, had not the occupation of the country by the 
Swedes, and the consequent introduction of fire-arms and 



18 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

destruction of the forests, brought about results that were 
most disastrous to the larger mammals/ It was this latter 
cause, perhaps, more than all else, that affected the larger 
animals of New Jersey, within historic times ; for, as their 
haunts were invaded by the settler, they were driven first 
to the remote mountain, forest-clad swamps, and then 
westward, as was the Indian; and the presence ever 
afterward of the European prevented, in great measure, 
their return even to those localities where a new forest- 
growth replaced the old. Notwithstanding all these ad- 
verse conditions, the bear and deer still linger within our 
boundaries, while the wolf has only been exterminated 
within fifty years, and the elk and beaver almost as re- 
cently. That all the animals mentioned were once com- 
mon here is proved by the presence of their bones in 
the shell-heaps or kitchen-middens of the Indians, and 
also by the accounts of the early travelers and settlers. 
Especially are we indebted to Peter Kalm, the Swedish 
naturalist, for many most interesting details of the fauna 
of the country as it was a century and a half ago ; and 
it is most instructive to compare his account of the habits 
of the mammals, that were then found here, with our 
own experience of the fauna that still remains among 
us. For instance, writing of New Jersey, in 1748, he 
says: 

" Bears are very numerous higher up in the country, 
and do much mischief. Mr. Bartram told me that when 
a bear catches a cow, he kills her in the following man- 
ner : he bites a hole into the hide, and blows with all his 
power into it, till the animal swells excessively and dies " ; 
and again : " They have two varieties of wolves here, which, 
however, seem to be of the same species. . . . All the old 
Swedes related that during their childhood, and still 
more at the arrival of their fathers, there were excessive 



OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL. 19 

numbers of wolves in the country, and that their howling 
and yelping might be heard all night. They likewise 
frequently tore in pieces sheep, hogs, and other young 
and small cattle." But a few years afterward they 
seemed suddenly to decrease in numbers, for in the year 
mentioned Kalm tells us that "they are now seldom 
seen, and it is very rarely that they commit any disorders. 
This is attributed to the greater cultivation of the coun- 
try, and to their being killed in great numbers. But 
further up the country (i. e., up the Delaware Yalley), 
where it is not yet so much inhabited, they are still very 
abundant." 

Some of our smaller mammals, on the other hand, ap- 
pear to have been benefited by the change from a wild 
to a cultivated country, as, for instance, the squirrels, of 
which Kalm says : " The several sorts of squirrels among 
the quadrupeds have spread : for these . . . live chiefly 
upon maize, or at least they are most greedy of it." 

Speaking of one other well-known mammal, now no 
longer found in New Jersey, the same author writes : 
"Beavers were formerly abundant in New Sweden" 
(.New Jersey), " as all the old Swedes here told me. At 
that time they saw one bank after another raised in the 
rivers by beavers. But after the Europeans came over 
in great numbers and cultivated the country better, the 
beavers have been partly killed and partly extirpated, 
and partly removed higher into the country, where the 
people are not so numerous. Therefore there is but a 
single place in Pennsylvania where beavers are to be met 
with ; their chief food is the bark of the beaver-tree, or 
Magnolia glauca, which they prefer to any other." 

Deprived of so many of these most interesting animals, 
it would seem as if the limited areas of woodland still re- 
maining were destitute of any features of mammalian life 



20 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

worthy our attention. This would be true, if the most 
interesting problems in biology could be solved only 
by the study of the habits of the larger animals ; but 
if we have not the cougar, we have the lynx; if not 
the elk, we have the deer ; and if not the beaver, there 
remains the musk-rat ; and it is to the study of the habits 
of such smaller creatures as have withstood the encroach- 
ment of man that our attention will be directed, and 
not to the past, when a larger, fiercer, and more attractive 
fauna dwelt within our borders. 

In studying the habits of the few mammals that re- 
main in New Jersey, it would, indeed, be interesting to 
determine to what extent their habits may have changed, 
since their environment has been so greatly altered by 
the destruction of forests, the drainage of swamps, and 
the cultivation of so large a portion of their former do- 
main. I have already mentioned these changes, among 
others even more patent, as having aided in the extermi- 
nation of most of our larger mammals ; and it remains 
now to inquire how far the smaller ones that are left 
have retained their old habits, and whether they have 
acquired any that are new. As their altered surround- 
ings must surely have increased the severity of that 
struggle for existence that greets every creature born 
into the world, it becomes an interesting inquiry whether 
the same causes have likewise increased their cunning 
and quickened their wits. When we come to consider 
certain phases of bird-life, we will find that man's pres- 
ence has changed some of their habits to a marked degree, 
and the same might reasonably be expected in the case 
of our mammals. I confess, however, that I have been 
able to find but few indications of such changes, and the 
accounts of the habits of the raccoon, musk-rat, and mink, 
as detailed by Kalm, seem to be as applicable to these 



OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL. 21 

animals to-day as when they were written. Still, the 
field-notes as to the habits of our mammals, in their pres- 
ent environment, are far from being devoid of interest 
and permanent value, and when it is remembered that 
traits that are peculiar to an animal in one locality, may 
not be characteristic of the same animal elsewhere, there 
is but little danger that the observations of a naturalist, 
even of familiar objects, will prove, in all respects, a 
twice-told tale. 



CHAPTER II. 



GLIMPSES OF WILD-CATS. 



To the world-wide traveler, the little stretch of mead- 
ows that intervene between my house and the river are, 
no doubt, exceedingly tame and uninviting; neverthe- 
less, to me they possess innumerable charms ; and I never 
weary of looking at them from the brow of the terrace 
that forms their eastward boundary. To me, indeed, 
they are as varied as a checker-board ; and a bird's-eye 
glance at them, such as one gets from the terrace, sug- 
gests this comparison. In about equal proportions they 
are separated by creeks and ditches into high and dry, and 
low and wet ; not divided into two great parts, but rather 
into a series of equal parts, evenly distributed. 

In June, 1860, there was a remarkable fall of rain, 
lasting from the 1st to the 4th of the month. The 
rainfall measured a little more than six inches, and as 
the storm extended well up the river, the stream was 
enormously swollen ; in other words, we had a summer 
freshet that submerged the meadows to the depth of 
from six to ten feet. This, of course, upset the calcula- 
tions of the meadow-haunting birds, who had either to con- 
form to the new order of things, or else to quit the neigh- 
borhood. Fortunately, the latter alternative was accepted 
by but few. As a result, I was astonished to find king- 
rails and woodcocks, and even the timid least bittern in 
the nearest high, dry, upland fields, skulking among the 
bushes that grew in the angles of the worm-fences. The 



GLIMPSES OF WILD- GATS. 23 

musk-rats and otters, too, were drowned out and came to 
the slope of the terrace, seeking shelter in its wooded 
portions ; and the minks reveled in an abundance of 
drowned nestlings that were floated to the shore. This 
latter fact was new to me, as I ha*d never known minks 
to eat of food that they had not captured and killed. 
During this summer freshet the animal life on the mead- 
ows was literally set afloat, and thus familiar animals were 
placed in situations that called for the exercise of great 
ingenuity. This, of itself, should be enough to satisfy 
any naturalist, as it not only offered a rare chance for the 
study of these well-known animals, under conditions that 
were altogether new; but the fauna of the meadows 
was increased by scores of animals that found refuge upon 
the drift-wood, and were borne along by the current until 
meeting here, for the first time, with open bottoms and 
the river spread over a wide expanse of country and de- 
posited many of the unwilling travelers. Among the 
mammals that were thus brought into the neighborhood 
— at least their presence may be explained in this way — 
were several wild-cats. 

Under the circumstances, it was natural that I should 
spend the day, wandering here and there, upon these 
flooded meadows, and feasting my eyes on the many 
sights that were to be seen. It was, for the time, a first- 
class menagerie, better than any museum or " zoo " I had 
ever visited, because more instructive. 

Night came all too soon, but still I lingered, hoping 
for further novelties to appear, nor was I disappointed. 
While yet a little sunlight lingered in the west, my atten- 
tion was called to a commotion, not far off, wherein both 
beasts and birds were concerned. As I was floating al- 
most aimlessly in my canoe, I heard a scream that was 
quite strange to me, and, looking in the direction from 



24 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

which the sound came, I was astonished to see a huge 
wild-cat, or bay lynx, standing upon a floating log, with 
its back arched and hair standing straight up. In the 
brush-wood, that had been drifted with the log, stood a 
turkey-buzzard, evidently entertaining no fear of the cat, 
even if it had no designs upon it. A quarrel was going 
on between them, I supposed, and my only thought was 
how I might be there to see. To be sure, it was growing 
dark, but this availed me nothing. I had no screen on 
the canoe, and indeed could only sit bolt upright in the 
little craft. If I went too near, the buzzard would fly ; 
perhaps, too, the cat would swim off, although I had 
doubts as to the latter event. Accepting matters as they 
stood, I paddled to within a dozen yards, and then, check- 
ing my course, kept the canoe in one position, with as 
little movement on my part as possible, and became a 
silent spectator. Of course, both the cat and the buzzard 
saw me, and glared at me and at each other alternately ; 
but neither changed its position, except to move its head. 
There was evidently a mystery about it. Things were 
not as they seemed. These creatures, it was now appar- 
ent, were not there of their own choice. Satisfied of 
this, I drew a little nearer. At this, the buzzard raised 
its wings, solemnly shook its head, and expressed its dis- 
approbation by ejecting a semi-fluid mass of half -digested 
matter, the odors from which were not suggestive of 
"Araby the blest." Still, the buzzard remained at his 
post, and I at mine. As to the cat, it held this act of the 
buzzard to be adding insult to injury, and struggled terri- 
bly to be free ; and now, for the first time, I saw that it 
was a prisoner. One of its fore-feet was securely held in 
the jaws of a large steel trap, which was fastened to the 
log. The truth was now plain. The animal had been 
caught during the recent storm, miles up the river, and 



GLIMPSES OF WILD- CATS. 25 

subsequently tree, trap, and cat had floated thitherward 
together. Being no longer afraid that it might run away 
or swim off, I ventured to approach a little nearer. My 
curiosity now centered in the turkey-buzzard, for appar- 
ently there was nothing to prevent its flying away, and, 
as it is a timid bird, I was indeed sorely puzzled. Going 
yet a little nearer, I could just make out, in the uncertain 
light, that a sheep was floating in the brush- wood, and 
was partly upheld by it. On this the buzzard had 
feasted, notwithstanding the proximity of the snarling 
cat, and now it was so gorged that it could not fly, as the 
bird must needs have a chance to take a little run and 
jump before it can mount upward. Standing on a mat 
of drifting brush- wood, this was impracticable, and. while 
free in one sense, the bird was, for the time being, as 
essentially a prisoner as the trapped wild-cat. 

Finding that I could not direct the floating mass to 
the nearest dry land, in consequence of its bulk, I con- 
cluded to remain conveniently near and see what might 
happen. It soon, however, became too dark to distin- 
guish either cat or buzzard, and I left them for a time 
in statu quo. Some hours later, by bright moonlight, I 
paddled to the spot again, but found the currents had 
changed the position of the floating mass and its living 
freight. The raft had lodged against a tree-top and be- 
come firmly fixed, and the buzzard had been given a 
chance. At all events, the bird was missing. Not so, 
though, the cat. It was still on the log, but not stand- 
ing up. Going closely to it, I found that it was sorely 
wounded and both eyes were pecked out. There was 
no doubt but that the buzzard had realized the cat's 
helplessness, and, although gorged with savory mutton, 
had attacked the poor creature " out of pure deviltry." I 
ended the cat's misery by shooting it. 



26 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

The last wild-cat I saw (1876) was met with most un- 
expectedly. For weeks I had been watching the move- 
ments of a family of ground-squirrels, or " hackees," as we 
call them, racing to and fro along the garden-fence. I 
had followed them up persistently, and once I had dug out 
one of their subterranean homes. The family history of 
those ground-squirrels I had well-nigh unraveled, and 
was disposed to worry them no more. Late one pleasant 
autumn afternoon, while lying, half concealed, in a mat 
of long grass, watching the few ground-squirrels that 
were scampering about, I noticed that suddenly a great 
fear overcame them. They ran to and fro, with no 
apparent object, and kept up an incessant squeal-like 
bark. Turning in every direction to see the cause of 
this sudden commotion, I at last discovered, crouching on 
the trunk of a lately-hewed chestnut-tree, a fierce wild- 
cat, that looked as though it would kill all the squirrels 
by its angry glances. I have never seen at any time so 
thoroughly devilish a countenance on any animal as in 
this case. In the murderous jaws of the cat was a squir- 
rel. I remained perfectly still, having the animal in full 
view. Presently it let the captured squirrel fall, and, 
placing one fore-paw upon it, the cat gave a long, low 
growl, very unlike any sound made by the domestic cat. 
It was repeated at short intervals, and not being responded 
to, so far as I could detect, the animal again caught up 
the dead squirrel and bounded into the thickets. I fol- 
lowed cautiously but rapidly, and soon found the animal 
again. It was now crouching at the foot of an enormous 
oak, and with much snarling and low mutterings was de- 
vouring the squirrel. This accomplished, the cat curled 
itself up in a little patch of sunshine to take a nap. I 
cautiously withdrew ; but on my return soon after with 
a gun, I found the cat had left for parts unknown. 



CHAPTER HI. 



WICKED WEASELS. 



Though not generally known to farmers and poultry- 
raisers, there are two kinds of weasels found here, and I 
am disposed to believe that one is as seldom in mischief 
as its larger cousin is out of it. For a long time I did 
not recognize any difference between the many weasels 
that I made note of. They varied greatly in size, but 
not otherwise. In my field-notes, it is true, I find dis- 
tinctions made, under such headings as " little " or " short- 
tailed" weasels, to distinguish certain individuals from 
others that were typical examples of the commoner wea- 
sel or ermine. It appears that this difference in size is of 
"specific value," as the systematists have it, and what 
shall follow refers to the " little weasel," a beautiful 
creature, in color brown above and white as snow be- 
neath, and with a little pointed tail of a uniform brown 
color. This little weasel is not nearly so common as the 
ermine. 

The true ermine, or large weasel, is well known every- 
where, and needs no further mention, except to say that 
in New Jersey it very seldom turns white ; and to ques- 
tion the statement of Audubon that in autumn they do 
not remain together, and do not hunt in company. I am 
fully convinced that the individuals of a family, at least, 
frequently, if not habitually, remain together until March 
or April of the ensuing year, when they separate. In 



28 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

two instances, both occurring in the month of November, 
several weasels were caught in traps, in the course of 
three successive nights, and one was found to be an adult 
male, another a female, while the others, being smaller, 
were therefore believed to be the young. 

I have knowledge, also, of a man being attacked by 
several weasels and badly bitten by them. Before he es- 
caped from their fury, he managed to kill two of them, 
and I judged these at the time to be an adult male and 
a young one of the summer just past. The man who 
passed through this novel but dangerous experience be- 
lieved there was u at least a dozen of them in all " ; and I 
have no doubt but that it was a family of weasels that 
were then hunting or traveling in company. 

During the past few years I have, during winter, 
met with an occasional specimen of the smaller weasel, 
one of which was white. It fell into the hands of a taxi- 
dermist, and was lost to science. It measured, before 
skinning, six and one half inches from the tip of the 
snout to the root of the tail. The tail itself measured 
two and one fourth inches to the tip of the last caudal ver- 
tebra, beyond which extended a few coarse hairs. 

Like all of the tribe to which this little mammal be- 
longs, this creature has the graceful, wavy gait, when 
rambling about, that is so characteristic of the common 
or larger weasel. If unmolested, it moves deliberately, 
and from side to side, as though ever on the watch for 
prey. If pursued, the gait alters somewhat, the body is 
less curved, and it scampers off at great speed, although 
not so fast that a good running dog or even a cat can not 
overtake it. 

Quite diurnal in their habits — although nocturnal, 
too, I suppose — they not unfrequently come to our very 
door-yards, and I have known one to be killed by the cat, 



WICKED WEASELS. 29 

which probably mistook it for a ground-squirrel or " chip- 
munk." When seized, it discharged from infra-caudal 
glands a fluid having a faint mephitic odor, which evi- 
dently so far sickened pussy that she was content with 
simply killing the animal, and did not attempt to eat it, 
play with it, or carry it off. 

So far as I have observed, the little weasel prefers 
wooded hill-sides, with a southern outlook. This may 
not, of course, be applicable to the animal as found in 
other places. Those that I have seen were all on the one 
sunny, wooded hill-side, which has been my only hunting- 
ground. Given the woods, there must needs be an open 
meadow near, for it is to the latter that they go to hunt ; 
while in the former they have their nests and find safe 
cover from pursuing foes. 

In May, 1878, a pair of these small weasels took up 
their abode near my house. My first intimation of their 
presence was the marked diminution in the number of 
ground-squirrels, or chipmunks, which I had intended to 
carefully study. Then a young chicken, now and then, 
was found lying dead, with a hole in its neck. The cry of 
"Weasel ! " was set up, but none were seen for some time. 
During the first week in June, as I was looking for birds' 
nests, I spied one of these animals running in the path 
ahead of me. Like a flash it disappeared in a stump that 
extended into the path. I followed it up, with all pos- 
sible dispatch, and from the " signs " it was evident that 
this weasel had its home here, and was continually going 
and coming out of a little tortuous passage-way among 
the roots of the stump. I kept my own counsel, and 
quietly followed up my discovery with the following re- 
sults : 

The pair proved to be quite diurnal in their habits, 
however they may have spent their nights, and were fre- 



30 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

quently seen, at various times of day, but never together. 
On emerging from its semi-subterranean retreat, the ani- 
mal did not appear to look about, but straightway darted 
off into a thicket of blackberry-bushes near by, giving 
great leaps, as though fearful of leaving behind any scent 
or trace by which the nest could be found. I noticed 
this sudden darting from the entrance beneath the stump 
on several occasions, and presume it is a customary 
method of leaving or entering their retreats. Twice I 
saw the weasel return, but in neither case did it bring 
any food with it, unless it was some object smaller than 
a mouse, nor was there any trace of fur or feathers about 
the entrance, although I am satisfied that this same pair 
had destroyed the ground-squirrels that a year previously 
had been so very abundant. 

Ten days later, I concluded to dig out the nest, if 
possible, in order to destroy the litter of young it was 
supposed to contain, and thus prevent the serious raids 
which I feared would be made on my poultry. 

The nest was scarcely two feet from the entrance on 
the hill-side, but was effectually protected by the large 
roots of the stump, behind some of which it was situated. 
It was lined with dead leaves, grass, and a few feathers 
of (I think) the robin and the chewink, and the skin of 
a snake, but no sign of the weasels was there. The 
nest had no odor about it, that I could detect, but my 
terrier evidently smelt something, for he dug about the 
stump, with great energy, for several days after I had 
completed my examinations. I discovered, soon after, 
that the weasels had, very shortly before I endeavored to 
dig them out, transferred their quarters to a rats' burrow 
under a pig-sty, not far off, and had made a radical 
change in their habits and diet, in so far as they now fed 
exclusively upon the rats in the neighborhood. There 



WICKED * WEASELS. 3 1 

was found in their new quarters a large pile of rats' 
bones, and, as subsequent experience proved, these little 
weasels had effectually cleared the premises of that terri- 
ble pest. My dog, however, was constantly on the watch, 
and finally worried the weasels so that they again sought 
new quarters. In September, I found them once again, 
and this time they had made a new home under a large 
oak growing on the border of a meadow. Here they 
seemed to be living wholly upon crickets, frogs, and 
mice, particularly the pretty white-footed or smaller 
jumping mouse. The number of common black crickets 
and grasshoppers destroyed by them was enormous, and 
this fact went a great way toward recommending the 
animal as being really sometimes as beneficial as it was 
at others destructive. Certainly this one family of weasels 
did me no harm. They destroyed half a dozen young 
chickens, I know ; but this is offset by ridding me of a 
plague of rats, at least for that year, and then of the 
grasshoppers that I have mentioned. 

The care that had been exercised, in early summer, to 
prevent the discovery of their nest, was now abandoned. 
The ground in front of it, and but little less so all about 
the tree, was covered with the remains of the crickets and 
grasshoppers that swarmed in the surrounding meadows. 
My impression is, that the weasels were constantly on the 
alert for them, and seized every one that ventured upon 
the grass near the nest. That frogs had also largely been 
preyed upon was evident from the many bones that I 
subsequently found in and near the entrance to the nest. 

While mice were the game which they appeared regu- 
larly to hunt, one species proved not at all easy of cap- 
ture, unless when surprised. This was the jumping 
mouse, or jerboa. Quite late in the month (Septem- 
ber) I was intensely interested in seeing my weasels once 



32 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

more, under quite different circumstances. While stand- 
ing on the border of a wide stretch of meadow, the grass 
on which had lately been mown, I saw a jumping-mouse 
give an enormous leap, and no sooner had it touched the 
ground than it leaped a second time, with even greater 
energy, but not in the same direction. For some reason 
it had turned about, and in leaping returned very nearly 
to the spot from which it had first jumped. Its unusual 
actions had roused my curiosity, and, going quickly toward 
it, I was surprised to see a little weasel bound nimbly, in 
its peculiar manner, over the grass. As it turned out, 
there were three of these animals, near each other, and 
undoubtedly associated together in the hunt. One of 
them had flushed the mouse, which literally came very 
near jumping into the jaws of a second, and had I not 
disturbed them, it would probably have been seized on 
touching the ground, after its second leap, as one of the 
weasels was very near the spot where it alighted. On 
my remaining quiet, the weasels resumed their hunt, and 
one, or the three in concert, flushed the mouse several 
times, before it reached the thicket near by, which I 
hope, at least, afforded it security against their tireless 
persecution. 

This incident, and my impressions from the little I 
have observed of the larger weasel or ermine, convince 
me that during autumn and winter the families remain 
together. If this is not true of weasels in wilder and un- 
cultivated regions, is it a habit lately acquired by those 
that live in the more thickly settled districts, being found 
conducive to their safety J 



CHAPTEE IV. 



OUR COMMON MINK. 



So familiar is the common mink to every one who 
has lived in the country, and so minutely have its habits 
been described, that nothing can be added to our knowl- 
edge of the animal. My field-notes are filled with brief 
references to it, and I find that twenty years have come 
and gone since first I saw a living specimen. This first 
experience was very memorable, and is even yet always 
recalled, whenever, as I float leisurely down the creek, 
on the lookout for fish or birds, I happen to catch a 
glimpse of a stray mink, as it runs along the shore in 
quest of fish, flesh, or fowl, as the case may be. I seem 
to witness the struggle all over again, and need no refer- 
ence to my notes to refresh my memory, though, to insure 
greater accuracy, I will transcribe them : " Cold, raw day, 
for the second week in May (1860), but, in spite of the 
threatening sky, went down to Watson's Creek to look 
for warblers. Saw nothing but yellow-rumped warblers 
(Sylvicola coronata), and only a few of them, and a single 
listless red-start (Setophaga ruticilla),iha,t evidently wished 
itself in the sunny South again. Near the ' big ditch, 5 
although I was a long way off, I saw something moving 
in a seemingly rough-and-tumble fashion, so I hurried 
on. It proved to be a good-sized ' snapper' (Chelydra 
serpentina) having a tussle with a mink. The turtle had 
the mink by one hind-leg, and held on like grim death, 



34 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

while the mink had its jaws buried in the snapper's 
throat, and it, too, held on, although the snapper kept his 
head moving in and out, all the time, in such a way that 
the back of the mink's head was being rubbed against 
the edge of the top shell, and was now all raw and bleed- 
ing. The snapper was making for the ditch, twenty 
yards off, but moved pretty slowly. I took hold of him 
by the tail, and, holding him up, put my foot on the 
mink and pulled hard. It was no use. Neither let go, 
and it was a question of the turtle's tail or the mink's 
leg. Then I tried poking the snapper with my cane, 
and finally he gave a snap at the stick, but was too much 
encumbered by the mink's clutch of his throat to seize 
it. The mink, however, didn't mean to let go, for, when 
I held the turtle well up from the ground, it still held 
on, dangling in the air, and apparently dead. A smart 
rap on the head, while swinging in the air, made him let 
go at last ; but the broken leg and loss of blood had used 
him up, and he lay on the ground, not dead, but dying." 
This is my " note " of more than twenty years ago. It 
is among the first of my field-notes, and I let it stand, as 
I wrote it, while rambling about Crosswicks meadows. 
Ever since I have admired the pluck of the mink, for 
here was a case where, for a considerable time, under the 
most painful circumstances, with its body describing a 
nearly complete circle, it had firmly maintained its grip, 
determined to sell its life as dearly as possible. 

That the mink has been able to hold its own, even in 
thickly-settled districts, is due to the fact that it possesses 
advantages which have enabled it to elude the persecu- 
tion to which, at times, all our mammals are subjected. 
Among these are an acute sense of smell, so that it can 
scent danger from afar, and a high rate of speed when 
chased " in the open." Like the little weasel, it can also 



OUR COMMON MINK. 35 

hide in a marvelously small space. In fact, everything 
is so favorable to it that it has learned no tricks, and re- 
sorts to no stratagem when it finds itself at close quarters 
with an enemy. It has, also, in common with the otter 
and the musk-rat, the advantage of being as much at 
home in the water as on the land ; and hence it largely 
frequents those irreclaimable tracts of marsh and swamp 
that, being useless to man, are but little frequented by 
him. Still, the mink has suffered more than most animals 
from the attentions of the professional trapper. 

Whenever I have seen a mink, in my meadow ram- 
bles, I have been impressed with the fact that all animals 
that fear man are as much on the lookout for him, and 
try as sedulously to avoid him, as they do any of their 
natural enemies. This fear of enemies I believe to be 
ever uppermost in the minds of animals; and possibly 
the mink considers man an enemy to be shunned just as 
decidedly as the toad shuns the snake. If, then, animals 
entertain this dread of man at all times, is it at all strange 
that we so seldom see them when we go bungling about 
their haunts? We probably never take a walk in the 
woods that we are not watched by many creatures which 
we do not see ; and many a squeak or whistle, which, if 
we heard at all, is attributed to some bird, is a signal-cry 
of danger made by some one animal, which, having seen 
us, takes this method of warning its fellows. Even the 
little white-footed mouse can squeak so shrilly as to be 
heard several yards ; and the bark of the gray squirrel is 
a far-reaching note. The little ground-squirrel, or chip- 
munk, can whistle a single note of warning, that scarcely 
differs from the clear notes of the crested titmouse. 

I have more than once tested this in the case of the 
mink. Mooring my boat near where I had reason to 
believe these animals had their nests, and remaining per- 



36 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

fectly quiet and in hiding, I have usually been rewarded 
by seeing the minks moving about as soon as their confi- 
dence was restored by the absence of all signs of life in 
or about the boat. They would come out of their bur- 
rows, or from under large roots, and dive into the water, 
or it might be that they carried some food from the shore 
to their retreat. Any act of this kind, free from the re- 
straint of fear, is in the case of all animals the most inter- 
esting and instructive, and, were our opportunities of this 
kind more frequent, our knowledge of animal life would 
soon be largely increased. Important as it is to measure 
their bones and count their teeth, most of the great prob- 
lems of biology can, after all, only be solved by careful 
study of animal life in its native haunts, and in an envi- 
ronment not essentially influenced by the presence of 
man. 

A few words as to the animals upon which the mink 
preys. While from its quick movements and weasel-like 
capability of stealing quickly along through tall grass, 
without adding a tremor to a blade, the mink has 
everything in its favor, it limits its attacks to those birds 
that are not capable of serious resistance. In August, 
when the marsh-meadows are teeming with the sora-rail, 
the minks have a jolly time, and capture hundreds of 
them, in spite of the speed at which these birds can run, 
and of their moderate power of flight. In early summer 
minks destroy many young ducks by seizing them by the 
feet and drowning them, as does the musk-rat, the snap- 
ping-turtle, and, as claimed by some, even the big bull-frog. 
But when it comes to attacking the herons and bitterns, 
except perhaps the least bittern, it is a question whether 
the mink would not be at a serious disadvantage in ap- 
proaching them. Unless they could seize these tall birds 
by the throat, which would not be easily accomplished, 



OUR GOMkON MINK. 37 

they would be certain to receive, in return for their au- 
dacity, a fatal stab from the beak of the bird. Over-con- 
fident spaniels that have been sent to retrieve disabled 
herons have been fatally injured, and why a like result 
should not occur when an uninjured bird is attacked I 
can not imagine. Judging from a little experience of 
my own vrith a wounded bittern, I should say the nim- 
bleness of the mink would not avail it very much. 

Besides birds and fish, minks devour a miscellaneous 
mass of animal matter. Much of this is carried to the 
entrance of their nests and eaten at leisure. In one in- 
stance I counted fragments of what I believe to be over 
three hundred cray-fish, besides bones of fishes in abun- 
dance, and the shells also of three painted turtles. The 
latter were probably dead when found by the minks. 

While occasional fights doubtless occur between 
musk-rats and minks, in consequence of their usually liv- 
ing close together, I never had any reason to consider 
them as " natural enemies," and as being forever at war. 
Statements to this effect have frequently been made, but 
such has not been the result of my own observation. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SKUNK. 

If happily we can make our observations unseen by 
the animal, we can not but admire the beauty of the 
markings and general " make-up " of this handsome mam- 
mal ; but, even under the most favorable circumstances, 
much caution is desirable on the part of the observer, for 
too great eagerness may result in vexing the animal, and 
thus destroying the balmy freshness of the sweet June 
woods. 

Although seldom seen at present, in comparison with 
fifty years ago, skunks are probably less rare than they 
are supposed to be. In thickly-settled districts, however, 
they have become more wary on account of their perse- 
cution by dogs, and in such localities, Tbelieve, become 
strictly nocturnal in their habits. While disclaiming any 
particular predilection for the animal, I must admit that 
I like them, and when an opportunity offers to follow one 
up I always do so with a feeling of interest, all the greater, 
perhaps, from the danger that attends the investigation, 
though, as yet, I have never met with an accident. 

I am disposed to pay them a high compliment at the 
outset, for, from my observations of a dozen or more dur- 
ing the last twenty years, I credit them with being as 
cunning as foxes. This is at variance with the observa- 
tions of naturalists generally, but here I am speaking of 



THE SKUNK. 39 

the few that linger in a thickly-settled locality. But of 
this hereafter. 

In his notes on the skunk, written in 1748, Kalm 
makes one statement concerning them which is of consid- 
erable interest, if it be not an error. I refer to their 
ability to climb trees. He says : " It keeps its young 
one in holes in the ground and in hollow trees ; for it 
does not confine itself to the ground, but climbs up trees 
with the greatest agility ; it is a great enemy to birds, 
for it breaks their eggs and devours their young ones." 

Now, Dr. Coues, recently, writing of these animals, 
remarks that they " neither climb trees nor swim in the 
water " ; and again, he describes them as lacking " the 
scansorial ability of the martens." I can not speak of 
the skunks of 1748, but I am very sure that I have never 
seen one climbing a tree, or even resting among its 
branches ; but that they have a trace of " scansorial abil- 
ity" I can testify, for I have several times witnessed 
their walking — once running — on the top rail of a worm 
fence, and certainly this feat requires an amount of agil- 
ity that would, I think, enable the animal to do a little 
climbing if the trunks of the trees were not perpendicu- 
lar. Still, I have a Skye terrier that likewise runs on the 
top rail of fences with perfect ease, and yet he can not 
climb a tree. The difference between the two animals is 
to be found in the fact that the skunk climbs to the top of 
the fence, while the terrier jumps on it. But then comes 
the question, How does the skunk get into hay-mows if 
he can not climb ? Surely he never would allow himself 
to be pitched in with the hay, in July, and be content to 
remain there quietly until winter, without giving the un- 
lucky farmer cause to think that " somewhere near there 
be a pesky skoonk," as was once said to me. 

But if not a good climber, or not a climber at all, the 



40 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

skunk can dig with marvelous ease, and in an incredibly 
short time it can bury itself deeply in the ground. Late 
in the autumn of last year (1881) I chanced to overtake 
one of these creatures in an open meadow. On discover- 
ing my approach, the animal started off on a brisk trot, 
heading for the nearest trees. I made no effort to over- 
take it, for obvious reasons, but kept the animal in sight. 
When it reached the edge of the meadow, where stood a 
clump of large trees, it immediately commenced digging 
with great rapidity, and in certainly less than one minute 
it had tunneled so far beneath the roots of one of the 
trees that I could not see it, although, of course, I was 
more cautious in my explorations than would be neces- 
sary with any other mammal. 

This ability to tunnel in loose earth stands them well 
in need when they frequent thickly-settled neighborhoods, 
as they often make deep, temporary burrows in plowed 
fields, and find there a safe retreat during the day. As 
they can dig for themselves such an underground shelter 
as they need in a few moments, of course it is occupied but 
for a few hours. At night they are abroad in search of 
food, and, let them be where they may at daybreak, they 
can conceal themselves in a few moments so effectually 
that their whereabouts is not suspected. This, I believe, 
is the secret of their survival in the immediate vicinity of 
our towns. Had they only elaborate burrows to which, 
week after week, they resorted, then, doubtless, they 
would soon be discovered and driven off or destroyed. 
When the ground is loose or newly plowed, the skunk 
also resorts to digging to escape pursuit. I have knowl- 
edge of one instance in which the animal buried itself 
so quickly as to escape, although hard pressed. Then it 
did not throw out the dirt behind it as it progressed, but 
wormed itself through the loose earth much as a mole 



THE SKUNK. 41 

does. 1 subsequently determined that the skunk, in this 
case, reached a depth of four feet and tunneled a distance 
of nearly twenty It then turned about, and two hours 
later came to the surface within a few inches of where 
it entered the ground. When pursued by dogs, however, 
they do not trust to digging alone, but they endeavor to 
avoid an encounter by throwing the dog off the scent, 
and to do this they will pass along the top rail of a fence. 
If this fails, then their peculiar powers are brought into 
play. 

I believe that this animal has learned the wisdom of 
avoiding the use of its peculiar means of defense when 
other avenues of escape are open, as it seems to know, 
possibly through " inherited experiences," that this dis- 
charge, while driving off one enemy, will attract a dozen 
others. Certainly, it is as much annoyed by the fearful 
stench as the unfortunate recipient of the discharge, and 
it must know, if it has any trace of intelligence, that 
dogs from every quarter will be attracted, not by the 
sweet savor thereof, but by the fact that the animal that 
originates this " atmospheric disturbance " is somewhere 
in the vicinity. 

From a series of observations made in 1872, I am dis- 
posed to believe that the skunk discharges the defensive 
glands, when distended, in holes which it digs for the 
purpose and then covers over. This is a matter of pru- 
dence, comfort, and cleanliness to them, as it renders 
them less liable to be persecuted by dogs; and their 
nests and haunts during the early summer, when they 
have their offspring to look after, are much less offensive. 
Indeed, a nest of skunks is no more offensive to me than 
that of the mink or weasel. Whether the care exhibited 
by them in keeping their homes clean and comparatively 
odorless is due to their own dislike of the smell of their 



42 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

offensive discharges, or is simply a measure of precau- 
tion, the fact remains that such homes are often in fre- 
quented spots, and the presence of the animal is not sus- 
pected. Remaining carefully concealed throughout the 
day, and using great caution in their wandering at night, 
they escape notice, and are thus able to rear their young 
in safety. 

While not exhibiting the aversion to water that char- 
acterizes our common cats, the skunk does not appear to 
take to swimming voluntarily, even when closely pursued. 
Thus, when trying to evade an enemy, if it comes to the 
bank of a pond or creek, it will usually turn from its 
course, and seek safety in some other way than by flight. 
Occasionally, however, in the upper valley of the Dela- 
ware, where these animals are much more abundant than 
in the southern or tide-water portion of the State, the 
heavy freshets of early spring will catch them napping, 
and then they are forced to seek safety by clinging to 
floating logs. In this position they take an unwilling 
ride often of many miles, and if luckily they escape 
drowning, it is only to find themselves landed in a level, 
scantily-wooded country, the very opposite in all respects 
to their original home. 

Here it may not be inopportune to add that when, 
as has frequently happened, a skunk, an opossum, and 
several musk-rats seek safety, at the same time, from a 
sudden flood, and they all take refuge on the same log, 
there is no visible commotion or disturbance among them, 
though the wide berth given the skunk warrants the be- 
lief that all our mammals have a wholesome dread of the 
possible exercise of his peculiar method of defense. My 
impression, however, is that, when skunks are fighting 
among themselves, or contending with minks or opos- 
sums, as sometimes happens, over some, hapless chicken, 



THE SKUNK. 43 

the use of their defensive and offensive glands is not 
brought into play as is the case when they are brought 
to bay or seized by a dog or man. Skunks, however, 
had this power before they were exposed to the attacks 
of men and dogs, and, if not used as a means of offense 
when among mammals smaller than themselves, it was 
acquired as the necessary safeguard against their dog-like 
enemies, the wolves and foxes. 

When their involuntary river- voyages are undertaken, 
it often happens that a short swim becomes necessary. 
This is always so clumsily done that, if a skunk has more 
than a few yards to go, it will probably be drowned. 
They are not equally averse, I find, to traveling on ice ; 
and the last living skunk I saw was walking on the ice 
from a small wooded island in Watson's Creek to the 
main shore. While inactive and prone to long naps in 
extreme winter weather, the skunk can hardly be consid- 
ered as hibernating. 

Skunks are very partial to snakes as an article of food. 
In fact, these, with frogs and birds' eggs, seem to be their 
main support. Were they under all circumstances odor- 
less and quite harmless, their eager search for these latter 
articles is sufficient to condemn them. It is bad enough 
that the demands of science should seem to require the 
collection in a systematic manner of an occasional nest 
and complement of eggs. This can not be avoided ; but 
to aggravate the evil by having a skunk destroy most of 
the ground-nests in the neighborhood is beyond all en- 
durance. Better, surely, a nest of thrushes or song-spar- 
rows than a litter of skunks. An animal that destroys 
birds' nests is always a nuisance, though I do not object 
to any other, however wicked. But to return to the 
snakes. When pressed by hunger, and hunting by day- 
light, the skunk prefers to go after snakes rather than 



44 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

frogs, or to risking itself within the precincts of the poul- 
try-yard. Indeed, small snakes are evidently a great 
dainty, and the skunk appears to be more active when 
he finds a garter-snake, blind- worm, or flat-head adder, 
than at any other time. Having discovered a snake, he 
rises upon his hind-feet, and, giving a bear-like apology 
for a dance, he endeavors to seize the snake by the tail. 
If successful, he shakes the snake vigorously, as a dog 
would do, and seizing it, when dead or nearly so, near 
the middle of the body, he carries it off to his burrow, or 
to a hollow log, or to whatever shelter he has at the 
time. 

In June, 1863, I witnessed a terrific combat between 
a large skunk and a black snake, which, I judge, measured 
fully five feet in length. The prowling skunk had evi- 
dently seized the snake by the tail, and endeavored to 
give it a violent shake, as it would a little garter-snake. 
This angered the snake, and, turning like lightning, he 
wrapped himself about the skunk, completely encircling 
both neck and body. The head was so far free that the 
skunk could give the snake nip after nip, though it could 
not get a strong enough hold to disable it. Rolling over 
and over, hissing and snapping, the snake nearly con- 
cealed by the long hair of the skunk, the two creatures 
presented a strange spectacle as they struggled, the one 
to conquer, the other to escape. After watching them 
for fully five minutes, I ventured to approach, and dealt 
the two a hard blow with a club, and then ran back a 
few paces, not knowing what might be the result. Turn- 
ing about, I ventured to return part of the way to see 
whether the struggle continued. All was comparatively 
quiet, and, coming still nearer, I found that the snake had 
relinquished its hold and was slowly retiring in a dis- 
abled condition. The skunk was lying quite motionless, 



THE SKUNK 45 

and proved to be dying, though not dead. Soon after, 
I examined the animal carefully, and found that it had 
been strangled, or nearly so. 

During this combat there was no discharge of the de- 
fensive glands of the skunk. Whether these were in- 
active at the time, or whether they were disabled by the 
snake's attack, can not, of course, be determined. 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE OTTER. 



Otters are now so seldom seen, even along Cross- 
wicks Creek, that it may be counted a piece of great good 
luck to meet with one in the course of a day's ramble. 
I feel repaid for the exertion of a ten-mile tramp if one 
crosses my path, or if I catch, a glimpse of one as it dives 
into the stream. Not much to be learned, I grant, from 
such a brief acquaintance ; but there is, at least, the satis- 
faction of knowing that otters are about ; and then it 
becomes our business to find them, not for them to make 
an exhibition of themselves, or publish the whereabouts 
of their chosen haunts. 

Though these animals are now quite rare, it has not 
been many years since they were comparatively abundant. 
Local history informs us that they were formerly to be 
found in Crosswicks Creek, and in my mucky meadows 
even, in great numbers, and it has preserved the details 
of certain wonderful hunts in which a dozen or more 
pelts were secured in one day. "My four otter-skin 
lap-robes and my otter-skin great-coat w are items in the 
will of one who lived near by, less than half a century 
ago. There are even old trappers still living who for- 
merly depended upon otter-skins as the main source of 
their profit in a winter's trapping. So much for the ir- 
recoverable past ! 

My notes make mention of a sunny day in June, 1869, 



THE OTTER. 47 

when I happened tib wander to a wild spot some four 
miles away, on the muddy, sloping banks of a tideless 
stream. Here I took my stand, and in the dense shadow of 
the overhanging trees began my observations on the owls 
and jays that were, as I thought, my only companions. 
Soon, however, I found out my mistake, as a loud splash 
notified me of the presence of other company. It was an 
otter, and, as my approach had not been seen and I stood 
motionless for some minutes after hearing the splash, I 
was duly rewarded for my prudence and patience by see- 
ing the animal slowly emerge from the glassy surface 
of the pond, holding a largd fish in his mouth. With 
awkward steps he crawled up the opposite bank, and in 
a marvelously short time he devoured the fish, or most 
of it. Then walking to a point beyond, but in full view, 
he squatted down until his belly rested on the muddy 
slope, and, holding his head well up, with an expression 
of extreme satisfaction, he slowly slid down the smooth 
bank and disappeared beneath the surface of the water. 

I waited a full hour, but he did not reappear. Since 
then I have but seldom seen living otters. Once I over- 
took a large one, that at first " showed fight." It was 
in a small but dense huckleberry-swamp without water 
enough for a comfortable bath. To find these animals 
thus, away from deep ponds and running streams, is a 
rare occurrence. Their main food-supply is fish, and 
what substitute they find in swamps I can not say, un- 
less it be the innumerable frogs that abound in such lo- 
calities. 

I have never been able to determine positively what 
sounds and cries, if any, are made by this animal. Al- 
though my opportunities for studying their habits have 
been very few, I have always had this matter in mind 
whenever I have chanced to catch a glimpse of them. 



48 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

From a single occurrence, I am disposed to believe that 
they have what we may call a whistle, or whistle-like 
scream, uttered occasionally when several of them are 
met together. My reasons for thinking so are founded 
upon an incident that happened several years ago. While 
bobbing for eels in Watson's Creek, near by, one pleasant 
moonlight night in August, my attention was drawn to 
a commotion in the water, about fifty yards distant. I 
quickly raised the " bob," and gave my whole attention 
to the splashing and dashing, which were evidently caused 
by some three or four animals of large size. What they 
were I could not positively determine; but they were 
evidently too large for minks, and I could hardly believe 
that they were musk-rats. The clear light of the harvest 
moon, however, enabled me to see that mammals of some 
kind were either fighting or playing on and about a half- 
sunken log, one portion of which projected a short distance 
above the surface of the water. At three different times, 
one, and, as it seemed, the largest i of these animals was 
alone upon the projecting portion of the log, the others 
at the time being nowhere visible. At each time that 
this unknown creature was thus alone, it uttered a pecul- 
iar cry or call, which may be described as commencing 
with a low whistle and ending with a hiss. The sound 
was unlike anything that I had ever heard, and, while 
somewhat cat-like, would never be mistaken for the cry 
of that animal. Each time the animal made this sound, 
it appeared to raise itself on its hind-feet and then dived, 
when almost immediately the other two or three appeared 
and mounted the log. There was not sufficient light for 
me to determine anything positively, but I have always 
believed that the animals I saw and heard were a female 
otter and her young. 

The last otter that I saw alive was in February, 1874. 



THE OTTER. 49 

In the same stream where, thirteen years before, I saw 
the supposed otter and her young, amid cakes of floating 
ice, during a freshet, I saw a very large otter come to the 
surface with a chub in its mouth. It seemed quite at 
home in the icy waters, but dived immediately when it 
saw me. Soon, however, it reappeared far out in the 
stream, and clambering on a cake of ice it drifted slowly 
outward " to join the brimming river." 

I sought to drive it from this stand, by shouting 
and throwing snow-balls ; but it evidently knew that I 
could do it no harm at that distance, and it appeared to 
watch me with sublime indifference as it slowly floated 
seaward on the trembling raft of ice. 

This otter was much of the time within easy range, 
had I had a gun or rifle ; but the animal seemed to know 
that I was unarmed. At all events, it show r ed no such 
fear as animals usually do when a hunter is about. It 
may be a mere coincidence, I know, but for many years 
I have noticed that I invariably have better luck in 
seeing mammals and birds when I go into the fields un- 
armed than when I have my gun with me. It is cer- 
tainly true that crows know a gun when they see it, and 
may it not be that among our large mammals this knowl- 
edge obtains also ? 

Kalm does not make much mention of the otter, al- 
though seen by him frequently. His one brief remark 
concerning them refers to the ease with which they can 
be tamed and trained. He says : " Beavers have been 
so tamed that they have gone out fishing, and brought 
home what they had caught to their masters. This often 
is the case with otters^ of which I have seen some which 
were as tame as dogs, and followed their masters wher- 
ever they went ; if he went into a boat, the otter went 
with him, jumped into the water, and after a while came 
3 



50 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

rip with a fish." This, alas! is something of the past, 
and no recent attempts to train otters have been made in 
my neighborhood. The nearest approach to it was an 
effort simply to tame a half -grown specimen, and this 
could scarcely be called a success, as the animal never 
would allow itself to be handled, but fought the dog and 
bit the tamer's wife — refused food, and died in less than 
a week. 



CHAPTEE VII. 



THE FLYING-SQUIRKEL. 



About sunset, or even later, after nightfall, out there 
comes from some hidden hollow in the trees, with a joy- 
ous bound, our meny-hearted pet — the flying-squirrel — 
and, hastening to the outermost branch of his home-tree, 
he literally spreads his wings and sails through the air 
from tree to tree, on and on, through the depths of the 
woods. 

But not alone is he when thus on his nightly travels. 
Another and another of his kin come from the same hol- 
low in the tree, and young and old traverse in like man- 
ner some well-known tree-top route in search of their 
daily food. Often they do not return until morning, un- 
less it is very dark, and then they soon return by the 
same route, chattering like school-girls as they pass with 
marvelous expedition from tree to tree. It must not, 
however, be supposed that they promptly retire for the re- 
mainder of the night, even when they happen to come 
home early. Yery far from it. Their jaunt seems only 
to have stretched their limbs and given them a taste for 
the frolic among the upper branches of the trees, and is 
really indescribable. It would be hard enough to give the 
details of these movements even if plainly seen in broad 
day. Such a chance, however, seldom or never occurs, 
and the little I have seen of them has been by stray 
glimpses caught during clear moonlit nights. Unsatis- 



52 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

factory as these opportunities have been, they fully con- 
vinced me that the scansorial abilities of these animals 
are quite equal to those of the common gray squirrel, and 
they have also shown me that for hours these little squir- 
rels will clamber and jump from limb to limb of the 
same tree, without calling into play their flight-power. 

When disturbed during the day, unless hurt, they are 
for a considerable time as stupid as owls, probably be- 
cause " their large eyes, like those of the owl, can not 
meet the glare of the sun." In time, however, even 
though the day be very bright, they seem to realize the 
situation, and then, if on the ground, they scamper off 
with an easy but not graceful gait ; but if they happen 
to be in a tree among trees, then they use their " wings." 
Never have I seen them, on being disturbed, make any 
effort to conceal themselves, which they might easily do ; 
more readily, indeed, being smaller, than the gray squirrel, 
which appears always to elude pursuit by an effort to 
conceal itself, and only to run away when it finds that its 
previous effort at hiding has failed. That the flying- 
squirrel should not adopt a similar mode of seeking 
safety when pursued has ever been a mystery to me. 

From numerous experiments and many observations, 
I am satisfied that the flight-power of this squirrel ena- 
bles it to preserve a horizontal position of several feet 
— ten or twelve — before the downward glide commences ; 
but the membrane once expanded, is not apparently 
moved in any manner until the animal draws in its feet 
to seize hold of the branch it has reached. A movement 
of the membrane that gave the squirrel an additional im- 
pulse has been asserted of this animal, and the sugges- 
tion made that the first steps toward the acquirement of 
the flight-power of the bats had been taken. This I will 
not deny. It is something for which I have looked for 



THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 53 

many years, but have never as yet seen any evidence of 
it. I am glad that others have been more successful. 

When a flight is about to be taken, the body is drawn 
up until nearly globular in shape, and then the membrane 
is again expanded simultaneously with the impetus given 
to the body by the powerful hind-legs. If " wingless," 
this squirrel would move quite similarly to the jumping- 
mouse {Jaculus), or even the better known white-footed 
or deer mouse (Hesperomys). 

In a recent publication I find it stated that these 
squirrels fly "smoothly and swiftly on an inclined air- 
plane for thirty, forty, even fifty yards." This I consider 
an exaggeration. It is perhaps within bounds to say that 
this animal can sail down an " inclined air-plane " for 
thirty yards ; but it is very rarely that they do so, and I 
believe this distance is never exceeded. Their ordinary 
flights are about five to ten yards in length ; a distance 
that the common gray squirrel will clear at a single leap. 

It is highly improbable that these squirrels would 
tarry long in a locality where the trees were so scattered 
as to require longer flights. In fact, it is with flying- 
squirrels, as with all creatures possessing some well- 
marked peculiarity : the earliest accounts of the peculiar- 
ity are exaggerated, and the inherent love of the marvel- 
ous in man subsequently prevents for a long time a 
correct view of the matter being acquired. 

A word more concerning this habit of flying. I have 
twice met with individuals of this species that were 
apparently partial reversions to the ancestral non-flying 
squirrel. The membrane extending from the fore to the 
hind limbs, that acts as wings, was scarcely developed, 
and the fore limbs were somewhat stouter than in the 
normal condition. In their movements, these squirrels 
were more like the true Sciuridce, but, being associated 



54 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

with their own kind, they tried to keep up with them 
and " fly," but the most that they could do was to exe- 
cute a very graceful dive. These two non-flying squir- 
rels were both adults when captured, but died in a few 
days after being caged. 

Years of familiar acquaintance with these squirrels 
have not enabled me to detect much in their habits in- 
dicative of intelligence ; and it is for this principally that 
I look in studying animal life. I feel sorry to have so 
poor an account to give of these beautiful creatures, but 
I am compelled to say it of them — they are not " smart." 
Notwithstanding all their vivacity when in their native 
haunts, and their eminently gregarious habits, they do 
not suggest by any of their movements, so far as I could 
ever detect, any decided indication of that sociability 
characteristic of the ground-squirrels or chipmunks (Ta- 
mias). Each, on the contrary, jumps, runs, flies, solely 
on his own account, associated together indeed, but never 
acting in concert. Their several squeaky cries, too, are 
quite as frequent when they are alone as when associated 
with their fellows. Thus, they are really devoid, to me 
at least, of the most attractive features of animal life. 

Flying-squirrels do not pass into a prolonged hiber- 
nating sleep, with the regularity characteristic of some 
other mammals. They store up a goodly quantity of 
nuts and acorns, which are stowed away in a hollow 
of some large tree ; and from this magazine they draw 
their rations pretty regularly, unless the weather should 
be intensely cold. Even when snow covers the ground 
they sometimes leave their nests, for I have often caught 
them, in January, in an ordinary box-trap set for rabbits. 

Their nests are often in one tree, while their food- 
supply is stored in another near by. The nests are al- 
ways abundantly supplied with soft materials, and some- 



TEE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 55 

times as many as a dozen squirrels will take up their 
winter abode in one. When asleep, they appear like 
little furry balls, so arranged that the tail is made to do 
duty both as a pillow and coverlet ; the head rests near 
the base of the tail, which is spread over that side of the 
body which happens to be uppermost. 

These squirrels have of late availed themselves of 
conveniences erected by man, which partially replace the 
heavy growths of timber that have so generally been cut 
down. They now take up their abode in the attics of 
houses, if they can find any means of entrance. Once 
established, they drive the mice away, but they are them- 
selves so noisy that the change seldom proves desirable. 
If the locality does not meet with their approbation, they 
not only ramble noisily wherever they can get, but quar- 
rel incessantly. In out-buildings, also, I have frequently 
found them wintering. If the nest is in hay or straw, 
they nibble out a circular shaft or tunnel leading to it, 
and carry in an abundant supply of grain, if such can be 
had. In this regard, they are but little, if any, less de- 
structive than rats or mice. 

To return to the woods. Flying-squirrels make very 
large nests of leaves high up in the tallest trees, which 
are in every particular the same as the leaf-nests of the 
common gray squirrel. Some of those that I have ex- 
amined appeared to be sufficiently compact to withstand 
the winter storms, and were warm enough to protect the 
squirrels during the coldest weather. In them, however, 
there were no stores of nuts and seeds, so either the 
occupants hibernated the winter through and needed no 
food, or they had magazines near by, to which they re- 
sorted during spells of mild weather. 

Flying-squirrels are now, in consequence of the gen- 
eral destruction of the heavier growths of timber, not 



56 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

numerous, and it is probable that they never were as abun- 
dant as the other species of Sciuridce. Even so long ago 
as 1749, Kalm refers to them as " met with in the woods, 
but not very frequently " ; and again, that they " are so 
tamed by the boys that they sit on their shoulders and 
follow them everywhere." 

Gabriel Thomas refers to these animals, in his quaint 
little history of New Jersey, as follows : " There is also 
that Remarkable Creature the Flying Squirrel, having 
a kind of Skinny Wings, almost like those of the Batt, 
though it hath the like Hair and Colour of the Common 
Squirrel, but is much less in Bodily Substance ; I have 
(myself) seen it fly from one Tree to another in the 
Woods, but how long it can maintain its Flight is not 
yet exactly known." 

The most interesting feature connected with the fly- 
ing-squirrels of this neighborhood is, I think, the fact 
that they are slowly adapting themselves to an altered 
environment, as shown by their constructing nests of 
leaves, which probably, a century ago, they did not do ; 
and by their willingness, so to speak, to occupy accessible 
nooks in the dwelling-houses to which they can gain ac- 
cess from tall trees growing sufficiently near to enable 
them to reach these artificial quarters by means of their 
limited flight-power. I believe these squirrels never 
take journeys, however short, by simply running on the 
ground. Unless they can pass from tree to tree they 
stay at home. 

This pretty mammal figures, I find, in American 
animal weather-lore, but not to any important extent. 
In " Signal-Service Notes," No. IX, the compiler of that 
interesting volume writes, "When the flying-squirrels 
sing in midwinter, it indicates an early spring." As a 
lover of early spring, I heartily wish this were true. Ex- 



THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 57 

amining the matter more closely, it will be found that 
pleasant weather in midwinter, when squirrels rouse from 
their prolonged sleeping, is usually followed by late 
springs ; a record of the past one hundred winters show- 
ing clearly that the more uniformly cold winter is, the 
sooner and more evenly spring commences. If, there- 
fore, these singing-squirrels could be relied upon, it would 
be as bearers of unwelcome news — that spring would be 
tardy in arriving. It is scarcely necessary to add that 
all such "sayings," so far as based upon the habits of 
animals, are, as yet, valueless to the student of meteoro- 
logical science. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 



THE CHIPMUNK. 



With the first sweet blossoms of the Epigcea, and 
long before the foremost warbler greets his old-time home 
with gleesome songs, our little chipmunk has roused him- 
self from his long winter's nap, and sniffing the south 
wind, as it whirls the dead leaves about, scampers to and 
fro while the sun shines, and dives into his winter quar- 
ters, it may be for a whole week, if the north wind 
whispers to the tall beech-trees. But, in due time, the 
blustering days of March give way to showery April, and 
then, with more courage, " Chip " faces the music of the 
winds, let them blow as they list, and, darting along the 
top rail of our zigzag fences, he chatters and scolds, and 
calls to his equally noisy companions. They know full 
well that they have the summer before them, and, while 
determined to enjoy it, they begin early and in good 
earnest to make arrangements for its coming duties. I 
watched several pairs of them from March to November, 
in 1874, and nearly all of my observations were made 
at this time, as other mammals have occupied my atten- 
tion since then. 

Until the weather became fairly settled and really 
spring-like in character, these little chipmunks did not 
often show themselves, and when they did it was only 
in the middle of the day. They appeared to foresee the 
occurrence of a cold rain some twenty-four hours in ad- 



THE CHIPMUNK. 59 

vance and resumed their hibernating slumbers, becoming 
lethargic and very difficult to arouse. A pair that I dug 
out in March, having two days before re-entered their 
winter quarters and become quite torpid, were apparently 
lifeless when first taken up in the hands, and it was not 
until after several hours' warming that they became lively, 
and altogether like themselves. This seemed to me the 
more curious, in that they can respond to a favorable 
change in the weather in a short time, even when the ther- 
mometric change is really but a few degrees. 

On the 3d of May a pair of chipmunks made their 
appearance in the yard of my home, and took up their 
abode in a stone wall with a southern outlook, on the 
brow of a steep descent of over seventy feet. This hill- 
side or terrace-front is thickly wooded, and harbors scores 
of these creatures, as well as many other small mammals. 
From the fact that the subterranean homes of these ani- 
mals are said to be quite elaborate in structure, I deter- 
mined to wait until the pair in the yard had completed 
their excavations in and under the stone wall, and ar- 
ranged their nest, and then to open and expose the nest 
and its approaches of another pair, which was more ac- 
cessible, and commenced at the same time. This I did 
on May 29th, and without difficulty determined the gen- 
eral character of the nest and its two entrances. The 
burrow contained five young, about three days old. The 
two entrances were at the foot of a large beech -tree, 
standing about six feet from the brow of the hill. A 
little grass only grew about the tree, and the holes at the 
surface of the ground were very conspicuous. No at- 
tempt at concealment had been made ; but this was evi- 
dently because there were here, at this time, but few of 
their many enemies. Indeed, I was inclined to believe 
that there were no weasels about, and these are the most 



60 BAUBLES ABOUT HOME. 

destructive of all their enemies. The little weasel, per- 
haps, is less prone to enter their nests than the ermine ; 
and it is the former species which is the more frequent 
of the two in this immediate neighborhood ; but if the 
little weasels chance to take up their abode near by, the 
chipmunks soon hie themselves off to " fresh fields and 
pastures new." To return to the chipmunk's nest. The 
right-hand entrance to the nest proper was nine feet dis- 
tant from the opening at the foot of the tree, but, as the 
passage had a somewhat tortuous course, the tunnel was 
really about twelve feet long. The nest proper was, as 
near as I could determine, about twenty inches in length, 
and perhaps a foot in height. It was lined with fine 
grass. I had hoped to find more than two passages to 
the nest, and extra cavities or granaries, but there were 
no traces of them. These supplementary burrowings, or 
" store-houses," I believe now are made quite late in the 
summer, and are additions to their main burrows, made 
when it becomes necessary for them to commence storing 
up their winter supply of food. 

One feature of this earth-nest, and of all under- 
ground retreats of our mammals, struck me as very curi- 
ous. There was no evidence of any caving of the earth 
that I could see, or could I detect any evidence that 
means had been taken to prevent such an occurrence. 
The soil where I exposed the nest of the chipmunks was 
a fine, ferruginous sand that caved in whenever I tried to 
construct a similar tunnel. I made such examination of 
the surface of the burrow as I could, and found no trace 
of any foreign substance that explained the mystery, for 
such it was and is to me. 

On the 23d of June six young chipmunks made their 
appearance about the stone wall in the yard, and to these, 
with their parents, I will now confine my attention. It 



THE CHIPMUNK. 61 

puzzles me even now, when I think of it, to imagine 
when this family of eight chatter-boxes took any rest 
or kept moderately quiet. Very frequently during that 
summer (very seldom since) I was astir at sunrise, and I 
always found that these chipmunks were already on the 
go, and throughout July they appeared to do little but 
play in a very animated sort of way. They seemed to 
be playing at what children know as " tag " — i. e., they 
chased each other to and fro in a wild, madcap fashion, 
and tried to touch or catch one another, and sometimes 
to bite one another's tails. Occasionally the tail of some 
laggard gets a nip, and he gives a pitiful squeal, which 
starts them all to chattering. The way in which they 
scamper along the tapering points of a paling fence is 
simply astonishing ; but, however mad may be their gal- 
loping, let a hawk swoop down, or even pass over, and 
in a moment every one is motionless. If on a fence, 
they simply squat where they are, and trust to luck to 
escape being seen. If on the ground, when an enemy is 
discovered, and not too far from their underground nests, 
which is not often the case, unless foraging, they will 
dart to these nests with incredible swiftness, and going, I 
think, the whole length of the passage-way to the nest 
proper, they turn about immediately and retrace their 
steps to the entrance, from which they will peer out, and, 
when the danger is over, cautiously reappear and recom- 
mence their sports. These creatures, during the sum- 
mer, play merely for play's sake, and seem to have no 
more important object in view than amusement. Indeed, 
so far as I have studied animal life, this indulgence in 
play, just as children play, and for the same reasons, is 
common to all animals. I have often seen most animated 
movements on the part of fishes that could, I think, be 
only referred to this cause. Frogs, perhaps, in this re- 



62 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

spect are the nearest to being old fogies, as I never could 
detect anything on their part that the most vivid imagi- 
nation could construe into " having fun." 

About August 15th these chipmunks, and all the 
others in the neighborhood, appeared to settle down to 
work in "real earnest." Instead of playful, careless 
creatures, living from hand to mouth, they became sober 
and seemed very busy. Instead of keeping comparatively 
near home, they wandered off quite a distance for them, 
and filling both cheek-pouches full of corn, or later in 
the year, with chincapins and acorns, home they would 
march, looking, in the face, like children with the 
mumps. How much they can carry at one time, in their 
cheek-pouches, I know, from actual measurement, but 
am afraid to say, as the statement would be "hard to 
swallow," and so the inquisitive reader may determine 
the matter to his own satisfaction. 

This habit of storing up quantities of food against the 
coming winter was continued, in this case, and I suppose 
it is so generally, until the first heavy white frosts, when 
the chipmunks give up to a great degree their out-door 
life. The food thus gathered, usually nuts and corn, is, 
I believe, partly consumed when they go into winter 
quarters, and before they begin their hibernating sleep, 
which may not be for some time. This impression is 
based on the result of digging out a nest as late as the 
3d of November. The last time I had seen a chip- 
munk belonging to this nest was October 22d. Twelve 
days after, I very carefully closed the three passages that 
led to it, and calculating about where the nest was, I dug 
down until I came upon it. I found four chipmunks 
very cozily fixed for winter, in a roomy compartment, 
and all of them thoroughly wide awake. Their store of 
provisions was in a smaller room or store-house immedi- 



THE CHIPMUNK. 63 

ately adjoining, and consisted wholly of chestnuts and 
acorns ; and the shells of such of these nuts as had been 
eaten were all pushed into one of the passages, so that 
there might be no litter mingled with the soft materials 
that lined the nest. How long this underground life 
lasts, before hibernation really commences, it is difficult 
to determine ; but as the torpid state does not continue 
until their food-supply is again obtainable out-of-doors, 
the chipmunks, no doubt, store away sufficient food for 
their needs throughout the early spring. 



CHAPTER IX. 



WILD-MICE. 



I have often felt sore because I could never find a 
shrew in any of my rambles. I have knocked over hun- 
dreds of mice, in hopes of finding one with a pointed 
snout and a slender tail, but all to no purpose. There 
are shrews in my meadows, I am confident. Indeed, 
others have found them ; but in twenty years' search I 
have never seen one. But if not a shrew, I have seen 
mice in abundance — mice big and fat; mice lean and 
small, and middle-sized mice ; mice that were ill-tem- 
pered and would bite ; others that were gentle, and took 
pleasure in nestling in the hollow of your hand. Some- 
times I would fill my pockets with them, or tie up a 
dozen in my handkerchief, and then, reaching home, 
would let them loose in a box, and sit down gravely to 
" determine the species." I would have De Kay's tomes 
before me, and Coues's and Allen's bulky quarto on " Eo- 
dentia," and Jordan's " Manual," and the mice, and I 
would work by the hour, and pinch their tails and squint 
at their teeth and twist their toes, but it mattered not, all 
my labor and all my specimens simmered down to one 
poor meadow-mouse. I have tried to twist their hair 
and curl their whiskers, and lengthen their ears by a sly 
pull with the tweezers, but it was of no avail — there was 
only the one species, and I could not make a second, al- 
though I have tried very hard and very often. 



WILL-MICE. 65 

If, however, there is but the one mouse in our mead- 
ows, it is not so devoid of interest as might be thought, 
from the fact that it elicits generally no further remark 
than that " it is nothing but a meadow-mouse." 

Let us see what constitutes a meadow-mouse. As 
a furry entity dwelling in a bunch of grass and living 
on the seeds thereof, he is monotony itself ; but some- 
times, as I have found, there is a variation from this pro- 
saic style of keeping house, and then the despised mead- 
ow-mouse is a creature of decided interest. 

For instance, I find in my note-books, under date of 
May 23, 1882, that in wandering along the margin of a 
low or u mucky" meadow, I came across a large but 
thoroughly rotted log. On giving the log a kick and a 
push with my cane, I saw that I had disturbed a whole 
host of creatures of various kinds. A meadow-mouse 
ran into the reeds near by, a swarm of black ants covered 
one end of the log, while untold thousands of red ants 
covered the other, and finally a white -footed mouse 
showed itself through a knot-hole and scampered off 
with a squeak. Seeing this much at a preliminary glance 
of the rotten log, I forthwith instituted a detailed exami- 
nation, with the following results : Between the semi-de- 
tached bark and the log itself there was a neatly-made 
nest of long grasses occupied by the white-footed mice. 
There they resorted when not foraging, and had every- 
thing cozily arranged for future contingencies. I was very 
sorry that I had so rudely upset their plans, as Mrs. 
White-foot was evidently in an interesting condition. In 
the center of the decayed log, a family of meadow-mice 
had constructed a very elaborate home. There were 
three well-made tunnels leading to an interior chamber, 
which was of sufficient size to accommodate a dozen mice 
without crowding. This nest or " room " was partly 



66 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

filled with, fine hay and a few very small feathers. There 
were no young mice, however. The three exits were of 
sufficient size to admit of the rapid passage of a mouse, say 
about one and a half inches in diameter. Although the 
wood was very rotten and yielded to the gentlest touch, 
yet the sides of these tunnels were beautifully intact and 
as smooth as a carefully bored hole in hard wood. 
While much interested in the fact that two very distinct 
species of mice should occupy quarters in such close prox- 
imity — the two nests being less than a foot apart — I was 
more struck with the fact that there should be also two 
colonies of ants in the same log. One colony of large 
black ants, nearly half an inch long, had an extensive se- 
ries of tunnels, chambers, and anterooms built in one end 
of the log, and in some of the apartments were numbers 
of large white larvae. The mice, both meadow and 
white-footed, were near at hand, all day and every night, 
and notwithstanding the tempting morsels in the shape 
of the larvae I have mentioned, the mice did not appear 
to have disturbed the ants at all. On the other hand, 
the legions of black ants at one end of the log might read- 
ily have taken possession of the nests of the mice, yet I 
did not see a trace of an ant in either nest. Then, at 
the other end of the log, six feet away, were these mi- 
nute red ants by millions. These might also have proved 
a formidable foe to the mice, yet they, too, seemed will- 
ing to remain within bounds, and not a sign of them 
was to be found in the nest of either species of mouse. 

Some years ago a freshet floated a few half-rotted 
logs into a stretch of low, swampy meadow, near my 
house, and in these logs colonies of meadow-mice took 
up their abodes. They were regularly bored and tun- 
neled, just as so much firm earth might have been. In 



WILD-MICE. 67 

each was a large central chamber or nest, thus showing an 
adaptation to circumstances which greatly interested me. 

The food-supply in the meadow evidently was abun- 
dant, hence these mice remained; but the ground was 
too wet to admit of underground retreats, so these half- 
rotten logs had been utilized, and proved in every way 
adapted to their wants. I could not determine what 
constituted the food of these mice, but suppose it to have 
been, in part, seeds of the reeds and coarse grasses ; and 
it is not improbable, when these were not obtainable, that 
they fed upon animal food. My attention was called to 
the probability of this, from the fact that at every low 
tide many very small fishes were left in little puddles, 
and as these nearly dried away before the tide returned, 
it was practicable for the mice to have caught these fishes. 
Although I have often watched for some evidence of 
this, I never saw a mouse go a-fishing; but then this 
proves nothing, for these meadow-mice are far more 
active by night than by day, and when I was away they 
could readily have caught an abundance of these fishes. 

Unless the weather is extremely cold, the meadow- 
mice do not hibernate. They simply prepare for cold 
snaps by making roomy subterranean chambers, and line 
them with fine grasses. From these they sally forth at 
midday, if there is any sunshine, and find plenty of food 
in the seeds of the rank grass-growths that surround their 
chosen haunts. The food that they store for winter use 
is inconsiderable, and probably is consumed soon after it 
is placed in the magazines. Of course, I am speaking 
only of the mice as I have observed them in the neigh- 
boring meadows. 

Of our few remaining mammals, perhaps none have 
suffered less from the encroachment of man than the 



68 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

beautiful white-footed mouse. The fact that this little 
creature is a mouse, and you can not make anything else 
out of it, is certainly very much to its disadvantage. 
Could we but call it by some other name, many would 
feel that interest in it which it really deserves. Being 
a mouse it is passed by all unheeded, or else cruelly pur- 
sued with all the alacrity that the good housewife displays 
in chasing down a too daring Mus musculus. 

White-footed mice are nocturnal in their habits, but, 
like all the night-loving mammals, they are frequently 
astir during the day, and do not seem to be greatly in- 
convenienced by the glare of the midday sun. 

In my neighborhood these mice are very abundant, 
and I have taken especial care to watch for them, and 
study their ways whenever I could, but in spite of all my 
efforts I never could detect any peculiarly interesting 
feature in their habits, or catch a glimpse of something 
I had not anticipated. Our knowledge of the habits of 
most of our mammals is still incomplete. Something 
novel may at any time be expected ; but, lively and musi- 
cal as is the white-footed mouse, it differs but little from 
the prosiest mouse in your cupboard, so far as its habits 
are concerned. 

Nevertheless, their manner is attractive, and reminds 
one of a flying-squirrel, perhaps, more than anything 
nearer akin to it. When the nest is built in a tangled 
thicket of briers, as is sometimes the case, or the animal 
has chanced to occupy an old bird's nest, little white-foot 
clambers about these briers with astonishing ease. How 
it escapes the thorns, I can not imagine. Having found 
a nest, an excellent method of making them display their 
scansorial ability is to quietly place a dead snake near 
by, and then give the mice a shaking up. The moment 
they spy that snake, they leave for parts unknown with 






WILD-MICE. 69 

such alacrity that even the direction they take can not 
always be satisfactorily ascertained. Leaving the dead 
snake, however, does not prevent their return, for soon 
they will come creeping cautiously along the briers, as 
slowly as possible, and evidently reconnoitring. If they 
are satisfied that the snake is motionless, they will creep 
very near, thus braving a great deal, especially if their 
nest contains young. Perhaps half an hour may pass, 
but they gradually determine that the snake is dead, and 
then they slip cautiously back to their nest. If the snake 
is left, their fear wholly vanishes by the next day ; and 
the chances are, if you revisit the nest, you will see them 
dining off the reptile. 

In autumn, white-footed mice store up nearly as great 
a bulk of nuts and grain as the chipmunk, and build cozy 
nests near these magazines. Usually there is an under- 
ground passage connecting the two, unless the nest is 
under a log or stump. During winter these mice take 
very protracted naps ; but they are supposed not to hiber- 
nate. Now the distinction between sleeping, often over 
a period of four weeks, without once awaking, and true 
hibernation, is one that I fail to comprehend. Notwith- 
standing the very extensive magazines filled with choice 
food, gathered by these mice, they do not make any 
marked inroad upon them during the winter, and so, if 
much of the time awake, they must have but very poor 
appetites. Time and again I have opened their granaries 
in February and March, and found them nearly or quite 
undisturbed. Perhaps they had other stores of food, 
which had been opened during the winter, but I think 
not; and I know very well that these mice are nearly 
twice as heavy in May as in March, when " they are poor 
as snakes." 

If the weather be warm, about April 1st they are fully 



70 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

themselves again, and ready to commence their round of 
summer life with all the responsibilities that " house- 
keeping " entails ; and then it is, after a long season of 
comparative fasting, when the supply is scarcest, that 
they have need of food, and, in order to recruit their 
energies, I have found that this mouse has decided car- 
nivorous habits. While by no means as bloody as a 
weasel, or fierce as a brown rat, it nevertheless does not 
hesitate to attack a weaker brother, and it is really a 
skillful hunter of birds' nests, the contents of which, 
whether eggs or young, it feasts upon with great relish. 
Several times I have known them to rob the nests of 
robins, song-sparrows, and the chewink or swamp-robin. 
In one instance, a brood of young robins, nearly old 
enough to leave the nest, were attacked by a pair of these 
mice, during the brief absence of the parent birds, and 
two of them were killed. Carefully keeping watch, I 
found that as soon as the old birds retired from the nest, 
to answer the calls of two of the young birds which were 
on the ground, the mice stole back to the nest and began 
eating the young birds they had killed. As soon as dis- 
covered by the parent birds, they were forced to beat a 
retreat, but they invariably returned when the oppor- 
tunity offered, until the dead birds were nearly devoured. 
Another and much rarer species of mouse, the pretty 
kangaroo or jumping-mouse, merits our attention ; and 
I only regret my opportunities for observing it have been 
so few and unsatisfactory. This little mammal — not a 
true mouse, by-the-way — is not unlike the preceding in 
its habits, though he is easily distinguished by the won- 
derful leaps he takes when pursued. From the few ob- 
servations I have been able to make, this jactatorial 
locomotion is not its ordinary method of traveling. Al- 
though its fore-limbs are so short, it scrambles over the 



WILD-MICE. 71 

ground with as much ease and rapidity as other mice. 
If pursued, however, and extra speed is required, then 
its whole manner is changed, and it seems quite like an- 
other animal. It takes enormous leaps, one after another, 
with great rapidity, and, when the conditions are favor- 
able, it distances most of its pursuers. Remarkable as 
are the leaps made by this mouse, I have never seen them 
clear " five or six feet at every spring," as described by 
Godman. Without the means of determining this point, 
I should judge that one half that distance was more 
nearly correct. Here, perhaps, it is legitimate to ask the 
question, Has their jumping power at all decreased % It 
is not unreasonable to suppose that such should be the 
case, if the habit of jumping arose from the necessity of 
eluding certain enemies which do not now exist in as 
great numbers as formerly. Certainly, at present, in this 
neighborhood, these mice have no more enemies than 
the white-footed or the meadow mice, nor are they ap- 
parently any more secure from the attacks of these ene- 
mies, because they can jump a little faster than the others 
can run. 

Godman remarks of this animal : " At the commence- 
ment of cool weather, or about the time the frost sets in, 
the jumping-mice go into their winter-quarters, where 
they remain in a torpid state until the last of May or 1st 
of June. They are dug up sometimes during winter 
from a depth of twenty inches, being curiously disposed 
in a ball of clay about an inch thick, and so completely 
coiled into a globular form as to conceal the figure of the 
animal entirely." My own observations have not been 
in accordance with the above, so far as the "ball of 
clay " is concerned. Such as I have found had well-built 
nests of fine grass and bits of hornets' nests, placed in a 



72 BAUBLES ABOUT HOME. 

roomy underground chamber, usually so situated as not 
to be exposed to excessive dampness. 

Its hibernation is certainly much more profound than 
that of the white-footed mouse, which voluntarily rouses 
from its winter slumbers; furthermore, the jumping- 
mouse does not hoard grain, as does the latter. 



CHAPTER X. 

MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS AS WEATHER-PROPHETS. 

The musk-rat is too well known to require any par- 
ticular account of its daily habits ; although there is al- 
ways something to be learned about any and all animals. 

Having successfully withstood the encroachments of 
man, and indeed having often been benefited by its abil- 
ity to utilize the constructions of man, such as the banks 
of canals and ditches, the musk-rat is now about as abun- 
dant as ever, and thrives in spite of constant persecution, 
not alone in retired situations, but often within the very 
limits of our cities. 

As to their numbers now, when compared with a 
century ago, there is probably some slight decrease, but 
it is not much. Kalm (1749) says, " The Swedes asserted 
that they could never observe a diminution in their num- 
ber, but believed that they were as numerous at present 
as formerly." They were hunted then quite as persist- 
ently as at present ; and possibly even more so, as their 
fur was more in demand. 

But well and accurately known as the musk-rat is to 
many, there is still a very prevalent misconception in the 
minds of people generally with reference to certain of its 
habits, and particularly to those referring to its winter life. 
In calling attention, then, to its winter haunts and habits, 
there will occur a fitting opportunity of correcting certain 
distorted facts and curious fancies, not only about this 

4 



74 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

animal, but also in relation to the great majority of our 
mammals. 

Besides the extensive burrows in which, during the 
greater part of the year, the musk-rats live, they often 
erect, in autumn, quite elaborate structures, in swampy 
ground, or occasionally in shallow and quiet waters, when 
they can find safe anchorage, as for instance to a stump. 
These winter-houses, as they are usually called, are coni- 
cal in shape, and generally about three feet in diameter, 
at the base, and two or three feet in height. The mate- 
rials used in their construction are long, coarse grass, bul- 
rushes, twigs, and some of the larger limbs of shrubs. I 
have never discovered any evidence that, beaver-like, 
they gnaw off saplings of water-birch for the purpose of 
using them in house-building, but that they do so, at 
times, has been asserted by many. The materials gath- 
ered are closely cemented with stiff, clayey mud, which 
the musk-rats procure from the beds of streams, often 
burrowing beneath the sandy superstratum to secure it 
of the proper consistency. When sun-dried, these struct- 
ures are very strong and will bear the weight of a full- 
grown man. The walls are generally about six inches in 
thickness, and are very difficult to pull to pieces. The 
interior consists of a single circular chamber, with a floor 
that is ingeniously supported on coarse sticks driven into 
the mud, after the manner of piles, and among them are 
laid horizontally many others, thus making a strong but 
open foundation, upon which are placed small twigs, stiff 
mud, and over all a layer of soft grasses. This interior 
is arranged after the dome is completed. In the center 
of the floor is an opening, leading by several, often six 
or eight, diverging paths, below the water-level, and 
extending to the nearest higher or comparatively drier 
ground. Through these the musk-rats make their escape, 



MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS. 75 

if the home be disturbed ; and it is only by first discover- 
ing these paths and blocking them, or by closing the one 
exit at the base of the house from which the paths start, 
that it becomes possible to secure all the occupants of 
one of these winter nests or homes. While the exterior 
of these structures is quite irregular and apparently rudely 
or carelessly put together, it is evident that this exterior 
is designedly arranged in this manner to make the home 
appear like a stranded bunch of trash, transported thither 
during some sudden rise and overflow of the stream, or 
some filling up of the swamp, as the case may be. The 
interior, however, of these structures is usually neatly 
furnished and smoothed, and with its lining of soft ma- 
terials, the entire structure bears no little resemblance to 
an enormous bird's nest turned upside down. 

Even more than in the case of birds' nests, however, 
there is a great deal of variation among these structures, 
and the above description of a typical nest is taken from 
my notes of two such structures which were carefully ex- 
amined in the winter of 1880-'81. I have in this descrip- 
tion made use of the best features of the two nests or 
homes, and given a fair idea of what the structure is, when 
every condition is such as the musk-rat desires. Like 
birds, however, they have usually some objectionable fea- 
ture to contend with, and hence they never erect pre- 
cisely such a home as they are capable of constructing. 

Now these nests are not built every year, by any means. 
In the same locality, near my home, where a colony of 
musk-rats have good quarters and a comparatively easy 
time, these animals one year content themselves simply 
with their burrows in the higher ground that bounds the 
wet or " mucky " meadow ; and the next year they erect 
one or more of these dome-shaped houses. I had long no- 
ticed this irregularity, and having mentioned it at various 



76 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

times to trappers and the "old folks" of the neighborhood, 
was in every instance assured that, when no snch houses 
were built in the fall, the winter would be very " open " 
or mild, and vice versa. In other words, the power of fore- 
telling the character of the coming winter was ascribed 
to the musk-rat by these trappers and old folks generally, 
who are popularly supposed to have gained much accu- 
rate knowledge from long observation. " Nature," indeed, 
"is an admirable school-mistress," but careless scholars 
do not do her justice. I was the more surprised at this, 
too, because I have found that these same people can 
generally give us more accurate details of the habits of 
our animals than are found in the books. 

Having my doubts as to the truth of this, as well as 
other "common impressions," I have for many years 
tested the matter, and noted down in what years houses 
were built in the same localities, and when none were 
erected. The result was about as I expected. In the 
majority of instances it proved to be precisely the reverse 
of what I had been told. As an example of this, take 
the two winters, 1879-'80 and 1880-'81. The former 
was very mild and spring-like, and numerous large houses 
were built ; during the succeeding autumn, in the same 
locality, none were erected; and the character of the 
winter was precisely the opposite of the preceding one. 
Now, the musk-rats were here all winter, just the same, 
but they lived in their subterranean homes. The records 
of the past twenty years, in fact, clearly show that the 
" common impression " should be reversed, if it be true 
that there is a ghost of a connection between the custom 
of erecting these conical houses in autumn and the char- 
acter of the coming winter. 

"Why these winter-dwellings are not always erected, is 
not easy to determine ; nor do plausible explanations sug- 



MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS. 77 

gest themselves. That it is in some way connected with 
their food-supply in winter is probable, and there may 
be some connection between the habits and the general 
condition of the springs and the abundance of surface 
water. I have thought that when the springs were "up" 
and the swamps full, in, autumn, these houses were more 
likely to be built, and vice versa; but I have noticed 
several exceptions, and do not feel assured that I am right 
in my surmise. At all events, there is no reasonable 
ground whatever upon which to base the assumption that 
musk-rats can foretell meteorological changes, beyond such 
as may occur within twenty-four or thirty-six hours. Far 
be it from me to deprive any of our mammals of all due 
credit ! On the contrary, my whole sympathy is with 
that view of their origin and of man's that gives the same 
powers, but in different degrees, to them and myself ; but 
there is as yet nothing discovered in the life of a musk-rat 
that even vaguely hints at the possibility of a prophetic 
power beyond the capabilities of any ordinary weather- . 
witch. 

Let us now consider, in this connection, the habit of 
many mammals of storing away quantities of food for 
winter use. As the musk-rat does not hibernate, and is 
not affected in its movements by the severity of winter 
weather, it requires no such magazines of supplies, and 
consequently has none. The winter-houses it erects have 
a bearing, I doubt not, upon the food-supply, which is 
probably more accessible from these structures than from 
their ordinary burrows. On the other hand, many mam- 
mals have but one class of retreat, summer and winter, 
and these gather in autumn, for winter use, enormous 
quantities of nuts and seeds, which are their sole depend- 
ence. ISTow, the same question arises here as in the case 
of the musk-rat : Have these " harvesting " animals any 



78 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

means or power of foretelling the character of a coming 
winter; and do they differ in the habit of storing up 
food, to an extent commensurate with the great varia- 
bility of the winters ? For if a winter is steadily cold and 
prolonged, as was that of 18S0- ? 81, the time passed in 
slumber will be equally extended, and a much less quan- 
tity of food will be consumed. If, however, the weather 
is as mild as the winter of 1879-'80, then these animals 
will be quite active much of the time, and of course con- 
sume a larger amount of food. This was the case in the 
winter last mentioned with both the gray squirrels and 
the chipmunks, and I venture to state that there was no 
more food stored the preceding autumn than in the fall 
of 1880, when winter set in about November 25th. It is 
also probable that no food whatever was consumed during 
the three winter months that followed, yet I am assured 
that the amount of food stored by these animals does vary, 
and that when much is stored, the winter will be severe, 
and vice versa. This shows not only great ignorance of 
the habits of common animals, but the illogical position 
of those that so confidently make the assertion is evident 
from the fact that if the weather is mild and the animals 
awake, then the greater supply of food is, of course, re- 
quired ; for it must be remembered that the amount of 
foraging in mild weather is so little that it does not be- 
come an important factor in this question. 

The habit, jper se, of storing food for winter use is 
beyond dispute, and it now behooves us to consider the 
variability of this practice and to seek the explanation of 
the fact that more food is stored some winters than others. 
It can scarcely be ascertained when and how the habit of 
storing food for winter use was acquired. Doubtless it 
dates back as far as the glacial period, but this does not 
concern us. What of the habit as it exists to-day ? 



MUSK-EA TS AND SQ UIRUELS. 79 

First, let us glance at the subject of our climate as it is, 
and as it was some two centuries ago. Kalm says that, 
" desirous of hearing from the old Swedes, who have lived 
longest in this country, and have been inhabitants of this 
place " (Raccoon, in Swedesboro, Southern New Jersey) 
" during the whole time of the change mentioned, whether 
the present state of the weather was in some particulars 
remarkably different from that which they felt in their 
younger years, the following is an account which they 
all unanimously gave me in answer to this question : 

" The winter came sooner formerly than it does now 
(1749). Mr. Isaac Morris, a wealthy merchant, . . . con- 
firmed this by a particular account. His father, one of 
the first English merchants in this country, observed 
that in his younger years (about 1690), the river Delaware 
was commonly covered with ice about the middle of No- 
vember, old style, so that the merchants were obliged to 
bring down their ships in great haste, before that time, 
for fear of their being obliged to lie by all winter. On 
the contrary, this river seldom freezes over at present be- 
fore the middle of December, old style. 

" It snowed much more in winter, formerly, than it 
now does (1749) ; but the weather in general was likewise 
more constant and uniform, and when the cold set in it 
continued to the end of February or till March, old style, 
when it commonly began to grow warm. At present it 
is warm, even the very next day after a severe cold, 
and sometimes the weather changes several times a 
day. 

" Most of the old people here were of opinion that 
spring came much later at present than formerly, and that 
it was now much colder in the latter end of February, 
and the whole month of March, than when they were 
young. Formerly the fields were as green and the air as 



80 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

warm toward the end of February, as it is now in March, 
or in the beginning of April" 

It can scarcely be said that any change has taken place 
during the one hundred and thirty years since the above 
was written, except that the snow-fall has much decreased. 
This has not arisen from a warmer temperature, and a 
consequent change to rain-fall instead of snow, but is an 
absolute decrease in precipitation. There is certainly con- 
siderable evidence to show that this corner of the world is 
slowly drying up, even if the globe, as a whole, is not. 

Let us now turn to what the same writer says of the 
gray squirrels. He writes : " The squirrels gather great 
stores for winter, which they lay up in holes dug by them 
for that purpose ; they likewise carry a great quantity of 
them into their nests. 

" As soon as winter comes, the snow and cold confine 
them to their holes for several days, especially when the 
weather is very rough. During this time they consume 
the little store which they have brought to their nests ; 
as soon, therefore, as the weather grows milder, they creep 
out, and dig out part of the store which they have laid up 
in the ground ; of this they eat some on the spot and 
carry the rest into their nests on the trees. "We fre- 
quently observed that in winter, at the eve of a great 
frost, when there had been some temperate weather, the 
squirrels, a day or two before the frost, ran about the 
woods in greater numbers than common, partly in order 
to eat their fill, and partly to store their nests with a new 
provision for the ensuing great cold, during which they 
did not venture to come out, but lay snug in their nests 5 
therefore, seeing them run in the woods in greater num- 
bers than ordinary, was a safe prognostic of an ensuing 
cold." 

Here we have plainly attributed to the gray squirrel a 



MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS. 81 

weather- foretelling power, which certainly is not exhib- 
ited by these animals at present ; and, more strangely, 
Kalm does not suppose them ever to become torpid in 
winter, which they now unquestionably do. Finally, the 
underground storehouses of gray squirrels are but seldom 
made in this neighborhood, though enormous quantities 
of nuts are stored in the tree in which their nest is, or in 
one very near it. This, at least, is the rule within the range 
of my own observations. In the extracts from Kalm's 
volumes, we have intimations, at least, of a slight change 
in the habit of storing food, and apparently a great change 
in the fact that these animals now hibernate to a variable 
extent, though formerly they do not appear ever to have 
become torpid. If this be true of squirrels one hundred 
and more years ago, why should the habit of hibernating 
have been acquired, when the climate was gradually be- 
coming more mild, as it surely is ? Has hibernation taken 
the place of storing food ? Has less food, of late years, 
been stored, and forced semi-starvation brought about the 
hibernating habit? From my own observations, made 
during the past twenty years, I do not find that the bulk 
of nuts, seeds, and corn stored by harvesting animals 
varies to any important extent — certainly not, so far as 
gray squirrels and chipmunks are concerned. I found 
just as many storehouses of the chipmunks in the open 
winter of 1879-'80 as in the "Arctic" one of 18S0-'81 ; 
and yet the amount consumed the former year was prob- 
ably one half of that gathered ; while in the latter the 
amount consumed was almost nothing. At the time 
of this writing (April, 1881), the magazines of the gray 
squirrels are well stored, simply because these supposed 
non-hibernating animals did not eat a nut apiece from 
early in December until late in February. If ever there 
were two consecutive winters which tested the question of 



82 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

the variation in the amount of food gathered, and its bear- 
ing upon the coming season, it was the two winters I have 
mentioned ; and I could find no evidence, in anything 
that the squirrels actually did, that had any bearing what- 
ever on the character of the season, or hinted at the pos- 
session of a power to foretell the weather. Certainly the 
experience of these two winters contradicted the general 
impression as to any essential variation in the " harvest- 
ing customs" of these animals, in accordance with the 
" openness " or severity of the season. 

We are now brought to the consideration of another 
phase of this subject, which is of much interest. It is 
well known that the yield of nuts of all kinds varies to a 
considerable extent, and we can readily imagine a case 
where, there being an abundance of gray squirrels and a 
" short crop" of nuts, the supply stored away for winter 
was less than usual ; or if, from any untoward accident, a 
family of squirrels were deprived of a large portion of 
the supply they had gathered — what, under these circum- 
stances, will be the result ? Of course, if the weather is 
very mild, the squirrels will resist the tendency to keep 
" in-doors," and will sally forth in search of stray acorns ; 
or if, the ground being covered with snow, these are in- 
accessible, they will feed on leaf -buds of the trees ; but 
if the weather is too severe for out-of-door work, then 
can they voluntarily pass into a lethargic state, and thus 
eke out their small store ? I am disposed, both from ob- 
servation and experiments, to believe that they can. Un- 
like some mammals, these gray squirrels can withstand a 
great degree of cold, and their sleep, when deprived of 
food in cold weather, is to all appearances true hiberna- 
tion, and often extends over a period of three weeks. 
Rousing from their nap, they will eat greedily if food 
is accessible ; but if not, the sleep will be resumed. This, 



MUSK-RATS AXD SQUIB EELS. 83 

in winter; but in summer the same experiment results 
inevitably in starvation. 

This evidence of optional hibernation is, I consider, far 
more wonderful than any power to foretell the character 
of a coming season, which, in the case of the musk-rat, or 
of the squirrel— judging the one by the houses it erects, 
and the other by the food it stores away — is a faculty 
that I do not believe they possess. 



CHAPTER XL 

DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY " 'POSSUM " ? 

Among the few mammals that have successfully with- 
stood the encroachments of man upon their haunts, no 
one is more interesting to me, in its habits generally, than 
the well-known opossum. The earliest notice I find of 
these animals is by Gabriel Thomas, who, in his sketch 
of Pennsylvania and West New Jersey, published in 1698, 
refers to " that strange Creature, the Possum, she having 
a Belly to swallow her Young ones, by which means she 
preserveth them from danger, when anything comes to 
disturb them." On the other hand, Kalm appears to have 
overlooked them, making no further reference to the 
animal than to remark that " the opossum, like the otter, 
can be tamed so as to follow people like a dog " — a state- 
ment that scarcely holds good of the opossums about here 
to-day ! 

These animals, it has always appeared to me, are de- 
void of cunning, even in choosing their nesting and rest- 
ing places, and it has always been a mystery to me how 
they have managed for so many years to escape extermi- 
nation. Yet, stupid as they unquestionably are, they are 
still abundant, even in the immediate vicinity of large 
towns. Being of a low type of mammals, and characteristic 
of an early geological epoch, are we to infer that their want 
of cunning arises from this fact ? If so, it seems strange 
that, through the inherited experiences of an immensely 



DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY "'POSSUM"? 85 

extended ancestry, they have not acquired some small 
degree of intelligence; but this they do not appear to 
have done. They pass their days in a happy-go-lucky 
manner, and, if they reach old age, it is through good 
luck more than good management. 

The habits of the opossum may be thus summed up : 
Choosing a hollow tree, one in which a whole family can 
live, or a hole in a hill-side, which they do not alter and 
seldom dig for themselves, they sleep much of their 
time ; and when they occasionally wander about for food 
it is generally at night, especially if it be moonlight, 
though sometimes they go in broad daylight. They ap- 
pear to have no marked predilection for any. one kind of 
food, and exercise no ingenuity in procuring it, being as 
apt to seize a chicken if it comes in the way, during the 
day, as to stealthily attack a hen-roost after sundown. 
One peculiarity, indeed, I have twice witnessed. This 
was the tearing apart of a very soft, decayed log, and the 
capture of a nest of large black ants. In a bungling way 
they imitated the ant-eaters, and licked up with the tongue 
the ants and their larvae, but they seemed to swallow 
more rotten wood than insects. If so, the wood, I im- 
agine, would make a very unpalatable if not an indigest- 
ible meal. 

Unlike our other mammals, the opossums have no spe- 
cial fear of man, and make no effort to avoid him. Dur- 
ing autumn, especially, they wander about by day in the 
most unconcerned manner. Frequently I have met them 
in narrow wood-paths, with a safe cover on either side, 
but, instead of beating a retreat, they have stopped to see 
if I would get out of their way. Of dogs they have 
some fear, however, and will shuffle off if they see or 
hear one ; but even then they frequently only climb a 
short distance up a tree, and remain in full view. 



86 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Unlike every other mammal in New Jersey, the opos- 
sum appears to be nearly or quite voiceless. I do not say 
that they have no squeak or louder cries, but time and 
again I have endeavored to force them to utter some 
sound, but always in vain. Even in early spring, when 
several males were together and disputing, by actions, 
over the unconcerned females near by, they appeared to 
be quite dumb. Many times my opportunities have been 
most favorable for detecting any sound that they might 
make, but I have heard nothing. When captured there 
may sometimes be noticed a faint hissing sound, but I do 
not think it is voluntarily produced. 

Reference has already been made to the peculiarity 
in the anatomical structure of this animal which dis- 
tinguishes it from all other North American mammals. 
Earnest as have been the efforts of many observers to 
learn the details of the breeding-habits of the opossum, 
there yet remain some points of interest to be deter- 
mined. 

In a communication to the Essex Institute of Salem, 
Massachusetts (Vol. Ill, p. 288), Mr. Shute gives the fol- 
lowing as his own observations, made at Beaufort, North 
Carolina : 

" The date of the birth was March 16, 1863. Dur- 
ing the delivery of the young the parent lay on the right 
side, with the body curved in such a manner as to bring 
the sexual organs opposite that of the pouch ; the mouth 
of the pouch was open and drawn down by contraction 
of the muscles so as to receive the young when delivered. 
The young were seven in number. The time occupied 
in delivery was about four hours. The parent remained 
in the same position about thirty-six hours, and refused 
all sustenance. 

" Immediately after the transfer of the young to the 



DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY "'POSSUM"? 87 

pouch, I removed one, by detaching it from the teat, in 
order to ascertain if the movement of the foetus was in- 
stinctive. I found that it was at least partly voluntary, 
as it made an effort to regain its place in the pouch, and 
the same movement was made by the parent, as at first, to 
receive it. I did not notice any use of the limbs or lips 
of the parent during the transfer of the young." 

A few words in conclusion, concerning the supposed 
peculiarity of the opossum in feigning death when cap- 
tured. 

As the result of the systematic and rational study of 
animals has been to realize that animal and vegetable life 
is but an uninterrupted series of forms, from the lowest 
to the highest and most complex organisms, there has 
been a tendency to see, in the phenomena exhibited by 
lower organisms, merely a modified condition of that 
which man, the highest organism, habitually exhibits un- 
der like circumstances. While admitting that man has 
no power, or gift, so called, not directly derived from the 
lower forms of animal life, may it not be that, in observ- 
ing the habits of such lower forms as come under our 
notice, we are sometimes misled by making personal 
comparisons ? and what a man might do, or probably or 
undoubtedly would do, under given circumstances, is not 
what the observed lower form of animal is doing, in spite 
of appearances to the contrary. I have been led to this 
conclusion by the patient and cautious study of the habits 
of the opossum as it is now found in the immediate 
vicinity of thickly-settled districts, where but little cover 
is afforded, and where its limited ingenuity is wholly re- 
quired to make good use of that which remains. 

"While the habits of all the mammals still found in 
settled and cultivated districts, unless it be the mice and 
moles, are doubtless more or less modified by the extra 



88 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

exertion required of them in contending against the 
almost constant presence of their two greatest enemies, 
man and the dog, thus increasing their ingenuity, it can 
never be determined how far the raccoons, otters, and 
minks of to-day are in advance, either in intelligence or 
cunning, of those of some few centuries ago. I presume 
that the struggle for existence being more desperate, they 
are more cunning — we know they are more wary — and 
that they have had transmitted to them the experience of 
hundreds of generations. This is readily seen in the case 
of many birds, notably the common crow, and why not, 
therefore, with a higher organism ? In the case of the 
stupid opossum, this question is scarcely applicable, as that 
animal is a link connecting the present with the past, and 
therefore not to be judged under the laws governing the 
present. Further, the low intelligence of the opossum 
seems rather to favor the view I shall express concerning 
the peculiar habit that has rendered the animal quite 
famous. 

Whenever the opossum is captured, it is popularly 
supposed to feign death, or to "play 'possum,' 5 as it is 
usually called. Now, does this really occur ? Does the 
opossum ever deliberately make the effort to deceive its 
captors by assuming such a position, and suppressing its 
breath to such an extent as to appear dead ? If such be 
the case, it is well to look beyond the mere fact of thus 
feigning death, and see what such an act, if voluntary, 
really indicates : 

1. The object being to render itself useless or unat- 
tractive to its captors, the opossum must be credited with 
supposing that, if it can appear to be dead, it will be use- 
less to its captors. Now, what is there in opossum-life 
that could give rise to such an impression ? Could the 
experience of past generations, exposed as they were to 



DOES TEE OPOSSUM PLAY "'POSSUM"? 89 

the enemies characteristic of the different environment 
of that time, do so ? Here it may be added that the 
results of this supposed feigning are never such as to 
warrant the animal in so doing. 

2. The assertion that the opossum feigns death neces- 
sarily assumes that the animal in question realizes what 
death is. While it may be admitted that, being a semi- 
carnivorous mammal, it must know what the death of its 
prey means, does any animal realize that that is its own 
inevitable fate ? When badly wounded, or worn out 
with age, an animal " crawls away to die," but is it not 
as probable that, in seeking a retired spot, it does so 
with hopes of recovery, rather than with a feeling of res- 
ignation at its approaching dissolution ? I must confess, 
however, that the well-known fact that scorpions can be 
induced to commit suicide, appears to effectually set aside 
my belief ; unless, indeed, this act on the part of scorpions 
may have some other than a suicidal explanation. Still, 
I am disposed to believe that the pleasant knowledge of 
approaching death and its certainty is confined to man. 
If so, then in fancying that we see death feigned on the 
part of the opossum, we ascribe to it a process of reason- 
ing which is fallacious, and would, if persisted in, have 
resulted in the extermination of the species ; while as a 
fact we find that it has, on the contrary, been able to 
withstand the encroachments of farming operations, and 
the destruction of timber about its haunts, which have 
driven off some of the smaller and all of the larger mam- 
mals. If this is the habit of the opossum, it must neces- 
sarily have originated long prior to the advent of man 
upon the earth, and been acquired as a safeguard against 
the attacks of enemies not now existing, which would 
Hot molest it if they supposed it to be dead. At present, 
this supposed habit is not a protection against the attacks 



90 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of dogs, its only enemy here except man, and yet after 
an ineffectual resistance the same act is gone through 
with when attacked by dogs as when captured by man. 
It is a habit that militates against its safety, and could 
never have been acquired in its present environment. 
Speed, if exercised, would in many cases insure safety, and 
the opossum can run when it chooses to make the effort. 
That the supposed habit of feigning death was acquired 
as a safeguard against pursuit by man solely, is absurd, 
inasmuch as in this case it does not conduce to the safety 
of the animal ; and to assert that any habit was acquired 
solely as a means of guarding against the persecutions of 
man, is to ascribe a very high grade of intelligence to 
the most stupid living mammal. Whatever the origin of 
the habit, if such it is, it can not be logically regarded as 
voluntary. The brain of the opossum is too primitive to 
have evolved this degree of cunning, forethought, and 
contrivance. 

In order to test this supposed habit, I have sought out 
their hiding-places, in numberless instances, and endeav- 
ored to make them " show off " in this manner. In one 
case, a large male opossum was captured in an ordinary 
box-trap, set for rabbits. On lifting the lid of the 
trap, the animal was found to be curled up into a 
form as nearly globular as it was possible to assume. 
Being disturbed, it slowly raised its head, opened its 
mouth wide, but did not offer to bite, and in this posi- 
tion it quietly awaited coming events. After some five 
minutes of mutual staring, the opossum closed its mouth 
and slowly restored its head to a more easy position, 
and even closed one eye, as though the other was all 
that was necessary to note what might occur. On be- 
ing roughly handled and given several pushes with a 
stick, it again opened wide its mouth and protested 



DOES TEE OPUSSUM PLAT "'POSSUM"? 91 

against disturbance by a low, hissing sound, but did not 
uncoil its body. 

If the animal, at this time, realized that it was a pris- 
oner, it certainly did not fear death, for it made no effort 
to escape, which the fear of death would cause it to do, 
since it was in no way disabled. After waiting an hour, 
and seeing no sign of feigning unconsciousness, but, 
instead of it, a most provoking indifference, I walked off 
some distance to a point where I could see the trap, but 
was myself hidden from the opossum. Fully ten minutes 
elapsed before I saw any movement on the part of the 
animal, and then it was a very gradual uncoiling of the 
body, a protracted yawn, a stretching of the limbs, and 
then standing up, he looked about and very deliberately 
walked off. I ran toward him, when he quickened his 
pace, but was soon overtaken. On seizing him by the 
tail, he crouched down, partially coiled his body, and 
spread his jaws to the utmost. When I threatened vio- 
lent blows about his head (although careful not to strike 
him), the animal's head slowly sank down, and the eyes 
closed, but this was not a feigned act. The breathing was 
affected but not suppressed, the surface temperature of 
the body was lowered, I judged, and it was, as I believe, a 
faint, and not a feint ; a temporary paralysis of the whole 
body through fear, and for the time being absolute un- 
consciousness. Furthermore, as in fainting, the applica- 
tion of cold water had the effect of restoring the animal 
to consciousness. I have made scores of experiments of 
this kind, in some instances actually striking them, when 
the fainting through fear was more sudden ; and in no 
experiment have I seen anything to suggest intentional 
feigning of death. 

The late Dr. Lincecum, in a sketch of the habits of 
the opossum, as observed by him in the Southern States 



92 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

(" American Naturalist," Yol. VI, p. 555), speaks of their 
being attacked by turkey -buzzards, and "going into 
spasms," during which the buzzards pick out their eyes 
and otherwise wound them. This being the ordinary re- 
sult of a " make-believe," would even as foolish a creature 
as the opossum long continue it ? Again, Dr. Lincecum 
speaks of " kicking over " an opossum, which " immedi- 
ately went into a spasm." This is a very different matter 
from feigning unconsciousness. 

*As to the position usually assumed when the opossum 
is supposed to be feigning death, it is that which the ani- 
mal assumes when sleeping ; and, further, is the one best 
calculated to prevent injury from blows, as the head and 
breast are partly protected. 

As this animal is superlatively lazy and positively 
timid, and by no means intelligent, when compared with 
the mink or raccoon, I believe this supposed habit of 
feigning death is attributable to fear and not cunning ; 
and certainly it is a merciful provision that thus destroys, 
without pain, all sensation in animals about to be torn to 
pieces. 



CHAPTEK XII. 



OUR BIRDS IN GENERAL. 



The Duke of Argyll lately illustrated most forcibly 
the truth of the saying that " a little learning is a dan- 
gerous thing," when he wrote disparagingly of the vocal 
powers of American birds. Had he been with me one 
spring-like April morning of the past year and heard the 
"burst of song," lasting from sunrise until high noon, 
to which I listened, his want of appreciation of our birds 
would have been changed, I doubt not, to enthusiastic 
admiration. 

For several days the birds had been arriving, one or 
more kinds at a time, but it was not until the 29th of 
the month that the summer birds had arrived in full 
force. The brown and the wood thrush, the cat-bird, the 
bobolink, and the two species of oriole, the three wrens, 
and a host of other merry warblers were here on that 
day, each in full song, and congregating in their several 
haunts they united in giving a ringing welcome to the 
coming summer. "What with the added voices of our 
winter birds, the lark, the sparrows, and the gay cardinal, 
there was nothing wanting in the songs they sang — no 
check to the melody of their choral greeting. Amid the 
bright surroundings of the young leaves, through which 
the trembling sunbeams danced in glee, these feathered 
choristers charmed alike the eye and ear, and I listened 



94 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

for hours to the glad refrain, which even yet lingers in 
my ears. 

But we have other birds besides those that sing, and 
no lack of them. To realize how numerous they are, 
and how varied in every bird feature, it is only necessary 
to take a quiet country ramble — not along the dusty 
highways, for there you will only see the alien sparrows 
— but in the woods and through the swamps, over the 
meadows and along the river-banks. Do this, and the 
wealth of bird-life here will be duly appreciated, and 
not otherwise. The truth is, our hawks are as brave and 
our crows as saucy as any that can be found ; our quails, 
too, are as gamy, our herons as stately, our ducks as shy, 
and our divers as impudent, as those of other continents ; 
and, best of all, there is an abundance of them. 

It is not my purpose, however, to maintain the supe- 
rior excellences of our many song-birds, or uphold the 
merits of those whose virtues are other than vocal. Those 
who know our birds best, know well their capabilities ; 
and it may be thought a mere repetition of what has been 
often said before, to mention again either their songs or 
their general habits. Nevertheless, I am led to do so for 
the reason that I do not believe that the whole history 
of any bird will ever be known ; and because I am con- 
vinced that the nearest approach to it will be in the 
sum of the results obtained by different observers, living 
in widely separated localities. The things that I have 
seen in Central New Jersey are not the same that would 
have appeared to an observer in the mountains of Penn- 
sylvania, in New England, or in the Western States, for 
it is with the habits of birds, not their anatomical pecul- 
iarities, that I am concerned, and these are decided by 
the bird's environment. As this is widely different in 
different portions of the range of any species, it neces- 



OUR BIRDS IN GENERAL. 95 

sarily follows that there must result certain peculiarities 
of habit incident to the locality that are of interest to the 
philosophical naturalist. 

In a region like Central New Jersey, which seems to 
be a neutral ground between the ranges of Northern and 
Southern species, it is scarcely practicable to determine 
precisely the avi-fauna. Every year adds additional in- 
stances of the occurrence of some rare straggler ; and, in 
accordance with the character of the winter especially, is 
there an abundance or otherwise of certain species that 
make a brief stay during that season. Again, it is scarcely 
practicable for an observer, however enthusiastic, to be 
out-of-doors the entire day, and, I may add, evening; 
and yet, unless thus constantly on the watch, the coming 
and going of certain species will escape his notice. A 
list of birds characteristic of a given locality is of value 
as a catalogue of a very limited area, and does not hold 
good over any considerable number of square miles, for 
the variation in the surface geology or physical geogra- 
phy of the neighborhood affects in a marked degree the 
habits of some species, and decides the presence or absence 
of others during a part or the whole of the year. As an 
instance, Gentry, in his " Life Histories of Birds," refers 
to our common meadow-lark as migratory about German- 
town (Philadelphia), Pennsylvania, while in this neighbor- 
hood it is a winter resident ; and the same might be said 
of several other species. Yet the field of Mr. Gentry's 
observations and my own are but thirty miles apart as 
the crow flies, though geologically they are as different 
as well can be. 

In conclusion, it may be added that in the uplands 
and meadows, and along the river-banks, I have noted 
one hundred and seventy-two species of birds. Of these, 
many are migratory, while others visit us but rarely. Of 



96 



RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



those that remain throughout the year there are but few, 
though at no season are we without a sufficient variety to 
make it as pleasant as it is profitable to indulge in out-of- 
door studies in ornithology. Even in the gloomiest days 
of winter there will always be a stray song-sparrow, nut- 
hatch, or tit, a brave cardinal, a lark, or at least a crow, 
jay, or woodpecker, to enliven the woods and fields, and 
no bird can be long watched, as it hovers about its chosen 
haunts, without giving us some further insight into the 
mysteries of bird-life. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIED3. 

As understood by me, the migration of a bird is sim- 
ply the desertion of a given locality for a certain and al- 
ways the same portion of each year. As an example, the 
common house-wren is migratory, in that it remains in 
Xew Jersey only from late in April until late in Septem- 
ber, having left its southern home for six months. 

Before endeavoring to determine the causes of this 
movement on the part of some birds, we must first note 
the various features characterizing the movement itself — 
for it may safely be asserted that no two birds migrate 
in the same manner, although the similarity is marked 
among the various species of the same family. The most 
notable feature in migration is the apparent uniformity in 
the time of its occurrence ; that is, of the dates of the ar- 
rivals in spring and of the departures in autumn. Is 
this arrival in spring as regular as claimed by some and 
supposed by most people ? To the casual observer, and 
indeed to many who have for years noted the first appear- 
ances of our various birds, the arrival seems to be quite 
regular ; and, curiously enough, we find many such ob- 
servers insisting that, however late a bird may be, any one 
season, he is never earlier than a given date. Thus we 
have been frequently told that the wrens are never seen 
before May 1st, and that usually upon that day they 
are here in full force. Now, let any one watch day and 



98 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

night for the first birds of the season; let him wan- 
der all day in or about tangled thickets and sheltered, 
sunny hill-sides ; let him, with sleepless eye, scrutinize 
every haunt of the birds, and with vigilant ear listen to 
every faint chirp and far-off twitter, and follow up every 
undetermined bird-note ; let him do this, year after year, 
from April 1st to the 30th, and he will find his note- 
books teeming with records of early birds, that will come 
and go all unsuspected by the mid-day observer, who 
often will insist upon the absence altogether of many 
a summer songster, which, skulking about, withholds its 
joyous songs until the woods have welcomed the full 
company of its kind, that of old have made merry in its 
shady nooks. The fact is, there is more to be learned 
about birds in one hour of the early morning than in 
six weeks of midday sunshine. 

The amount of variation in the dates of arrival of all 
of our spring birds is really considerable, and in the 
whole list of migratory inland birds that annually visit 
New Jersey, either to remain throughout the summer 
or on their way to more northern localities, there is not 
one that can be considered regular in the time of reach- 
ing here, by from twenty to thirty days. 

The amount of variation in the dates of arrival, year 
after year, of the same species — say of the brown thrush, 
cat-bird, or yellow-breasted chat — is less, however, than in 
the time of arrival of allied species, as, for instance, of the 
various species of thrushes which reach us very irregu- 
larly. The robin is a resident species ; the wood-thrush 
appears from April 15th to May 10th ; the tawny thrush 
sometimes later by two weeks, and sometimes absent al- 
together ; the olive-backed thrush passes by irregularly 
as to both time and seasons, and so, too, does the hermit- 
thrush, which, however, occasionally remains throughout 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 99 

the summer. The brown thrush, or " thrasher," comes 
to us by twos and threes as early as April 20th, and not 
until after the 1st of May can they be considered as 
present in full force. The mocking-bird is very irregu- 
lar, both as to years and dates, and the cat-bird, never 
missing a year, wants the early May foliage developed 
in which to skulk. Often in "single blessedness" he 
comes to his last year's haunts, and is wonderfully in- 
genious in his efforts to conceal himself in the leafless 
thickets of early April, keeping ever close to the ground, 
and never venturing upon the slightest attempt at a song. 

The many notes I have made with reference to the 
warblers also indicate a great degree of irregularity and 
uncertainty in their migratory movements. This applies 
to these birds not only as a family, but to all of the vari- 
ous species separately, of which a score or more generally 
pass through the State. During certain seasons I have 
noticed a marked preponderance of some one or two 
warblers which in the following seasons were much less 
common than many other kinds of birds. Thus, in 
1860, 1864, 1867, and 1872 the common redstarts were 
very abundant, not only about their natural haunts, but 
within the city limits, and scores of them could be seen 
climbing over and flitting through the branches of the 
shade-trees of the less-frequented streets. Since 1872, 
except in 1882, these birds have not been so numerous ; 
indeed, they have been far less so than many other war- 
blers, such as the yellow-rumped, the black-throated blue, 
and the yellow summer warbler. 

Unlike the thrushes, the warblers seem to be largely con- 
trolled by meteorological influences ; and sudden changes 
of the weather, which, unlike some birds, they seem un- 
able to foretell, greatly influence their movements, and 
certainly delay their northward progress ; and yet, while 



100 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

I have frequently known them to be caught in a " north- 
easter," they are not otherwise affected by it, so far as I 
could determine, other than by the delay before men- 
tioned. Even a sudden change from warm, summer-like 
weather to decided cold, did not apparently destroy any 
of them or check their lively movements among the trees. 
Let us glance at the well-known swallows. For live 
months of every year we have with us, in greater or less 
abundance, six species of swallow and one " swift," the 
common chimney-swallow. Of these, one, the rough- 
winged swallow, is comparatively rare ; the white-bellied 
are not particularly abundant, except during certain sea- 
sons ; the cliff-swallow is erratic, now here, about the 
barns and stables of a circumscribed neighborhood for 
several years, and then wholly failing to appear in their 
former haunts. Not so, however, with the barn-swal- 
low; with a variation in date of arrival of about ten 
days, there comes to us in May our full complement of 
these beautiful birds. They have decreased in numbers 
during the past fifty years, so observant old farmers have 
said, but probably not so much as they think. It is more 
probably the increase in the numbers of other species 
that makes the numbers of the barn-swallow seem fewer. 
The bank-swallow, earliest of all, is here literally by mill- 
ions, and the purple martins, in moderate numbers, sel- 
dom fail to occupy the boxes placed for their accommoda- 
tion ; while, lastly, the chimney-swallow, I believe, has 
never failed to appear in about the same numbers year 
after year. I have fewer instances recorded of single swal- 
lows, seen at unusually early dates, than of birds of any 
other family. Some, indeed, arrive much earlier than 
others, as for instance the bank-swallow ; but the differ- 
ence in the date of its arrival, throughout any ten years, 
is certainly much less than it is with other birds, which 



THE MI G RATI OX OF IX I AX D BIRDS. 101 

with some is surprisingly regular, though not absolutely 
so, as is so often asserted. 

Let us now glance at the peculiarities of this family 
of birds, and compare them with the thrushes and war- 
blers. One marked difference is seen in their wonderful 
flight-power, the thrushes and warblers being weak in 
their powers of flight, positively as well as compara- 
tively ; and my observations bear me out in asserting, as 
a law of migration, that its regularity is in proportion to 
and solely dependent on the flight-powers of the species. 
TTith the entire list of inland birds of Xew Jersey we 
believe this to hold good. 

I have already expressed my belief that many birds 
have the ability to foretell a coming storm. As this is not 
directly connected with the subject of migration, as I am 
now considering it, I will pass to another feature of this 
prophetic power, as it apparently is, in birds, and that is, 
their ability to judge of the general character of the com- 
ing season by a visit of a few days* duration early in spring. 
I have so frequently noticed that certain birds, common 
to a locality during the summer, occasionally fail to visit 
it, except in the case of one or two individuals, that come 
for a few days in April, that it has appeared as if these 
pioneer birds had satisfactory reasons for believing that 
there would be a scarcity of food, and so returned to meet 
their fellows, and, informing them of the fact, they all de- 
parted to " fresh fields and pastures new," just as a single 
crow, discovering danger, will turn a whole colony from 
their course as they are going to their roosting-place. This, 
be it understood, is a supposition, and may be wholly un- 
true ; but how are we to interpret the meaning of any 
habit or particular movement of a bird, except by the 
human standard ? An act on the part of a bird is intel- 
ligible to us only as we would interpret a corresponding 



102 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

act in man ; and these acts in birds and men, producing 
allied results, indicate that close connection between all 
animal life which is so readily comprehended from an 
evolutionary stand-point. Now, as an instance of this 
" foretelling " power in birds, I noted, during the spring 
of 1874, the arrival of the first chewink or towhee bunt- 
ing on the 27th of April. Busily it hopped among the 
dried leaves and tangled briers, enlivening the thicket 
with its constant song, just as a dozen of its kind had 
done throughout the preceding summer. In a few days 
it had disappeared, and not a chewink has been seen or 
heard for nearly six months. Late in October a few were 
noticed on their way south from the country north of us. 
This locality is one where these birds usually congregate, 
and I have often found a dozen nests within its limits. 
But, a few miles away, these birds were as abundant as 
usual. In two ways I can explain the absence of these 
birds: either those that were accustomed to occupy it 
went to a new locality, and the single bird that had pre- 
ceded them, finding his companions did not come, left, 
rather than remain alone; or he left to announce that 
food would be scarce — for it must be remembered, as 
Darwin has remarked, " most animals and plants keep to 
their proper homes, and do not needlessly wander about, 
as is seen even with migratory birds, which almost always 
return to the same spot." At any rate, the summer of 
1874, in this neighborhood, was the driest in the past 
fifty years, and it seemed as if the chewink knew what 
was coming. So, at least, I believe. During that sum- 
mer I noted the nearly entire absence of several species 
which are common, as a rule, and a very marked decrease 
in the numbers of those that did appear ; but, at the same 
time, my note-books mention the arrival of one or more 
individuals of every one of our migratory birds. Many, 



TEE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 103 

like the chewink, foresaw what was coming, and acted 
accordingly. It would, be most interesting to determine 
if insect-life was less abundant than usual during that 
summer, but I can only note on this point, as suggestive 
of the fact that it was so, a marked freedom of the fruit- 
trees and fruit itself from the attacks of their insect ene- 
mies. 

I must confess, however, that this explanation of the 
coincidence between the actual absence of the birds, and 
the occurrence of a remarkably rainless summer, does 
not lead me to believe that birds generally have a pro- 
phetic insight, or that they are habitually led thereby to 
prepare for the season, whatever it may prove to be. 
My statistics, covering many years, with especial refer- 
ence to several of our smaller mammals, show that they 
do not possess such foretelling powers, and therefore it 
is the less probable that any bird should be thus gifted. 
When my remarks on migration were first written, I was 
disposed to attribute prophetic power to migrating birds. 
I let my notes stand as originally written, but must add, 
in this connection, that during the past eight years I have 
grown skeptical. 

Another feature of the migration of our inland birds 
must here be briefly referred to ; and that is, the failure 
of late years of certain species to come, as a rule, as far 
north as New Jersey ; and also the habit, now fully ac- 
quired by others, of remaining throughout the year, when, 
but a comparatively short time ago, these same birds were 
truly migratory. 

As an instance : the summer redbirds, twenty years 
ago, were regular visitors to Central New Jersey, arriving 
about the first of May and staying until October. They 
nested on trees, frequently in apple orchards, laying pret- 
ty, purple-blotched, green eggs. They preferred wooded 



104 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

hill-sides with, a growth of underbrush, and having a 
southern exposure. In such situations they were numer- 
ous, and to one such locality, in particular, I can well re- 
member the charm they added by the bright gleam of 
their plumage as they passed from tree to tree, uttering 
their peculiar but not melodious notes. For the past 
twenty years I have not seen half a dozen individuals, 
and no nests have been recorded since 1857. In far 
scantier numbers the scarlet tanager has taken their 
place, although this bird is not rare by any means, nor 
was it so when the preceding species was abundant. 

It is much the same with the mocking-bird. For- 
merly as regular in its appearance, if not as abundant, as 
the cat-bird, it is now among our rarest summer visitants. 
An occasional pair, selecting some well-tangled thicket, 
will come late or early and build their nest, and then 
half a dozen years may elapse before we see them again. 
Yet fifty years ago these birds were common. 

Gabriel Thomas, in his history of " Pensilvania and 
West New Jersey," published in 1698, in the list of birds 
of Pennsylvania to which his attention had been called, 
refers to this thrush as " that strange and remarkable 
fowl call'd (in these parts) the Mocking-Bird" ; and 
again, in making a similar list of " West New Jersey " 
animals, he mentions "that uncommon and valuable Bird 
(being near the bigness of a Cuckoo) call'd the Mocking- 
Bird." From the prominence he gives it in the brief list 
of such large birds as geese, eagles, and pheasants, I pre- 
sume that it was then a very abundant species. Fifty 
years later, Kalm found mocking-birds near Philadelphia, 
and remarks, " These birds stay all summer in the colonies, 
bnt retire in autumn to the South, and stay away all win- 
ter." 

During the past half-century the numbers of these 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 105 

birds that visit New Jersey have undoubtedly steadily de- 
creased. In such cases as have come under my own notice, 
however, the love of locality is very strong, and, if the 
nest is, not disturbed, the pair will return year after year. 
It is probable that, in this case, withdrawal from so north- 
ern a locality is not voluntary, but is due to the almost 
certain persecution to which they are subjected. The 
remarkable vocal powers of the bird straightway publish 
the locality to every prowler, and the nest is soon sought 
for the valuable brood. In accordance with evolutionary 
doctrines, these birds should have learned in time to keep 
quiet, as their tongues are their worst enemies ; but this 
probably is too great a sacrifice, and so they now remain 
away, or are so seldom met with as scarcely to be con- 
sidered as an actual member of our avi-fauna. Once, 
however, in the past twenty years, there has occurred an 
unusual northward flight of these birds. In May, 1862, 
in several localities, they were noticed in considerable 
numbers, and attention was drawn to the fact in the 
local newspapers. It is not improbable that the war in 
Yirginia, then in progress, had much to do with this ; as 
it is evident that the constant cannonading and ceaseless 
blaze of camp-fires over much of the territory usually 
occupied by these birds would have the effect of driving 
them beyond the limits of these disturbances. 

As instances of " spring arrivals" that have become 
resident species, I will first mention the well-known blue- 
bird, which, whatever may be the state of the weather, is 
as lively and full of song from November to April as at 
any time during the summer ; yet it is still considered as 
a migratory species, and formerly, I doubt not, was so, 
even in New Jersey. More interesting is the instance 
of the common yellow-rumped warbler, which, in scanty 



106 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

numbers, braves our winters, and from the tops of the 
loftier pines chirps merrily while the snow-flakes fill the 
air, though later in the winter it seeks shelter in protected 
nooks where the noonday sun has melted the snow and 
given us a breath of spring-like air. In several such spots, 
since February, 1863, when I shot the first winter speci- 
men, I have not failed to find several individuals of this 
species during each of the winter months; and there 
seems to be a steady increase in the number of them that 
thus remain. The same remarks will apply, in part, to 
that beautiful but not well-known songster, Bewick's 
wren. They too, in scanty numbers, congregate in shel- 
tered places, and even during the gloomiest of November 
days one may often hear the clear notes of this lively 
bird as it sits, braving a chilly westerly wind, perched on 
the topmost twig of some leafless tree. 

A more marked instance than any, perhaps, is that of 
the great Carolina wren. In the " History of North 
American Birds," by Baird, Brewer, and Kidgway, it is 
stated that this wren " occasionally has been found as far 
north as Philadelphia," and that it is essentially a south- 
ern species. Although Audubon found it breeding in 
New Jersey fully fifty years ago, the probabilities are 
that, until recently, it was essentially a rare visitant to 
this locality. At the present time, however, this is far 
from being true, as it is really, in many localities, taking 
the place of the commoner house-wren. Neither is it 
"studious of concealment, and shy and retiring in its 
habits," but, on the contrary, it builds its nests in our 
out-buildings wherever a suitable locality offers, however 
much frequented the building may be. So tame, too, 
are they at such times, that it needs but little dexterity 
to capture them with the hand while they are sitting on 
the nest. They usually raise three broods, and are yearly 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 107 

becoming more abundant, and therefore a more promi- 
nent feature in our avi-fauna. 

The interest centering in this species, however, is not 
the fact of their summer sojourn here, but that they 
have wholly relinquished the migratory habit. They 
are as abundant, as full of song, as familiar, and as super- 
latively restless and wren-like in January as in June, and 
in this they afford an instance of change of habit that is 
worthy of consideration. It is not the only example, 
however, of a wren braving the severity of our winters. 
We have the true winter wren, and, in scanty numbers, 
Bewick's wren. It has already been mentioned that the 
supposed regularity of the movements of the common 
house-wren does not now obtain. Indeed, during the 
past seven years, I have carefully noted the dates of 
arrival and departure of the house wren, and find that 
they are here both earlier in April and later in autumn 
than I had supposed. It would appear that they, too, are 
slowly becoming accustomed to our wintry spring days 
and early foretastes of winter, and that their tarrying 
with us is simply a question of food. In the case of the 
Carolina wren, may it not be said that the descendants of 
the wrens found in New Jersey, by Audubon, fifty years 
ago, have become acclimated, and so remain throughout 
the year ; or do these birds, in scanty numbers, annually 
migrate from more southern localities, and leave a few 
of their progeny behind when the winter winds again 
drive them southward ? It is immaterial which is the 
case, as it suffices to know that here, in Central New Jer- 
sey, the Carolina wren, a well-marked southern species, 
has of late years become an abundant resident species. 
With the change, too, has come a change in its habits, so 
far as this was necessary to enable it to seek a sufficient 
food-supply in winter. Just where it finds this food in 



108 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

midwinter, and of what it consists, I am not sure ; but 
from the fact that it frequents our out-buildings, and is 
also often seen in the woods, especially among fallen tim- 
ber, it is probable that hibernating insect-life and spiders 
afford it all needed nourishment. 

I have now noted the more prominent features in the 
migratory habits of our inland birds as they come to us 
in May from the South, save the one fact, the bearing of 
which I can not determine, that, while a large proportion 
of the birds perform the journey by night, others travel 
wholly by day. At least this is the common impression, 
but it is difficult to demonstrate it. How little really do 
we know of the precise modus operandi of migration / 
All through April and May, if astir at the earliest dawn, 
when the resident birds are just starting their morning 
songs, we will occasionally hear the welcome notes of 
some summer bird for the first time. Has it been wing- 
ing its way northward through the thick, black hours of 
night, guided by some unknown sense ; and does it no 
sooner reach its old-time haunts than it checks its onward 
course, and from a familiar tree sings with grateful heart 
a loud thanksgiving glee ? 

If, during these same months, we wander about those 
quiet nooks and by-ways, where the first thrushes and 
warblers are likely to be seen, we shall find all the day 
long, and evening, too, that they are conspicuous by their 
absence. Not a chirp or twitter, save of the sparrows 
and tits that are with us all the year, and of the linger- 
ing snow-birds that seem to regret to leave our pleasant 
places. Far into the night we may remain, and only 
the startled chirp of some disturbed or dreaming bird, or 
the fret and scolding of little owls, will greet our ears. 
The silence of midnight may pass unbroken, and then, as 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 109 

the first gray streaks of light, in the hazy east, herald the 
on-coming day, suddenly a cheerful warble from some 
tall cedar, or tangled brier-patch, breaks the dead silence, 
and we mark the arrival of the first spring songster of 
its kind. Did it reach us at sunset, and, having rested a 
few hours, did it then announce its presence by its cheery 
song? 

It may be that they come both by day and by night, 
but why at all by night, if indeed so they come, must ever 
be a great mystery in the strange habit of migration. 

I let the above sentences stand unaltered, but the 
years since they were written have added to our knowl- 
edge of the migratory movements of our smaller, weak- 
flying inland birds. Not long since, many of these birds 
of several species were seen, by the aid of a telescope, 
moving southward, in large numbers, on a bright, moon- 
light night, flying at an estimated height of about two and 
one half miles. Straightway on reading this, I compared 
my dates of arrivals of all our birds, and then made com- 
parison with the almanacs for those years. Twenty-three 
years of these notes should give us something worthy of 
acceptance, I think; and it was found that the nearer 
the full of the moon comes to the 1st of May, the earlier 
collectively arrives the full complement of our summer 
migrants. Of course, a storm may make a difference, 
and I think the prevalence of cold northerly winds does 
also ; but still it may be accepted as a fact that very 
many of our birds take advantage of moonlight, and see- 
ing where they are going, and knowing where they wish 
to go, they travel by night. This, of course, necessitates 
long journeys, and I am puzzled to know how those birds 
of apparently weak flight-power can cover such long dis- 
tances. It can not be wholly due to their powers of 
endurance, but may be owing to some advantage taken, 



110 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

I know not how, of a strong upper current of air, that 
bears them along in the direction they desire to go. 

It has been suggested that the vigor of the male birds 
and the distended ovaries of the females, at this time of 
the year, are doubtless coupled with a general vigor of 
the whole body ; but it is questionable if this additional 
strength of itself is sufficient to enable these birds to fly 
for hundreds of miles without rest ; and furthermore, if 
such is the case in spring, they have not this added strength 
in autumn, when also these long journeys are made. 

Let us next study our birds during the autumn. A 
careful examination of the many notes, jotted down at 
frequent intervals, during the months of August, Sep- 
tember, October, and November, with respect to the de- 
parture south of such of our birds as are summer resi- 
dents, and of some that, having passed the summer in 
regions far to the north, are now likewise seeking their 
accustomed winter-quarters, indicates an apparent regu- 
larity in the southward movements of our birds, similar 
to what is seen in the spring, when they are on their way 
northward, and at the same time it shows an actual de- 
gree of irregularity in the dates of departure exceeding 
that of the dates of arrival. 

An instance of this was brought to my notice one 
August morning in 1881. As a point of observation for 
noting the movements of certain birds frequenting the 
tops of our tallest trees, I sought a seat as near the top 
of a fine old chestnut-oak as I dared to go. While on my 
elevated perch, I was surprised to find that, now and then, 
a stray specimen of some unlooked-for bird would tarry 
a moment in the tree-tops, and then, resuming its high, 
southern flight, would pass quickly out of sight. Such 
birds were orioles, both the Baltimore and orchard ; sin- 
gle rusty grakles ; a Maryland yellow-throat, a ground- 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. Ill 

loving species, still abundant in the thickets beneath me ; 
a golden-crowned thrush; several black-throated bunt- 
ings; and two humming-birds, male and female, still 
keeping company. The movements of all these birds 
impressed me with the belief that they were migrating 
birds, and not mere chance visitors. In most instances, 
they seemed to drop from above ; they remained but a 
little while, never longer than ten minutes, and then 
took a distinctly upward flight until nearly out of sight, 
when they started down the river — that is, in a southerly 
direction. This movement, which was well marked in 
every case, I construed into a migratory one, and occur- 
ring as it did so early in the season as August 20th, it 
leads to the conclusion that the return or autumnal flight 
of our migratory birds commences very soon after incu- 
bation is over, and is not a sudden impulse that controls 
the movements of the entire number of any given spe- 
cies. Certain it is that the degree of irregularity in the 
return of the birds that pass northward in May is very 
great — much more so than is the onward movement in 
spring to their northern summer haunts. This does not 
apply to all species, of course, but to many ; and it is 
precisely such exceptions — such semi-migrating or "ir- 
regular " species — that give evidence that the movement 
is slowly being relinquished, as being no longer absolutely 
necessary for their comfort and well-being. 

There are two very common birds, belonging to widely 
different families, the habits of which, I think, bear di- 
rectly upon this subject. One of these is the well-known 
yellow-breasted chat, the other the indigo-bird. 

The chat is one of our latest spring arrivals, being 
very sensitive to changes of weather. If undisturbed, 
these birds occupy the same nesting-place year after year, 
building a new nest every season, more from necessity 



112 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

than choice, as the white-footed mouse generally so uses 
and abuses the old nest, during the autumn and winter, 
that it is usually demolished before the return of the 
birds the next spring. Now, I have noticed for years 
that the chats are full of song and very active until the 
young birds are able to leave the nest ; and then it usu- 
ally happens that within a week or ten days the whole 
family will leave the neighborhood. 

After the middle of July and throughout August I 
miss them from localities where for ten weeks previously 
their curious medley of sweet and discordant notes was 
constantly heard during the live-long day, and often for 
half the night. This absence of these birds was no fancy 
upon my part, caused by their silence, for many birds 
cease singing when nesting is well over, but was abso- 
lutely true of them. Careful search failed to trace them, 
as they had evidently left the neighborhood. The six 
weeks of summer following the middle of July prove to 
be an interval not in the summer sojourn of those that 
nested here, though it seemed so, because the chats that 
about September 1st appear again in our woods and 
thickets are not our old friends, but are new-comers that 
have reached us from more northern localities. Those 
that nested here, returned to their winter homes when 
nesting was over ; while those that are seen here in Sep- 
tember are those that, having nested farther to the north 
and later in the season, are now on their return to their 
winter-quarters. 

Thus, it will be seen that the chats that nested in the 
valley of the Delaware River returned south as soon as 
nesting was over ; while a little later, the birds from the 
Hudson and Connecticut River Valleys came hither and 
occupied, for a brief period, the then chat-deserted Dela- 
ware Yalley. These again proceed leisurely, in their 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 113 

turn, on their way, often lingering long in the golden 
sunshine of sweet September days, but never singing 
those ecstatic spring-time notes that fairly start the echoes 
of a bright May morning. 

In brief, the autumnal or return migratory movement 
of our inland birds really commences in midsummer and 
is from valley to valley, and therefore a gradual change 
of base, along the whole northern Atlantic seaboard. 

I have frequently observed the same thing in the 
movements and habits of the indigo bird. In this case, 
also, there is often a well-marked interim, say from the 
middle of July to the beginning of September. This 
can not be explained away by suggestions of slight 
changes of locality, as from uplands to swamps, or open 
country to wooded districts. It is, rather, an interim 
caused by the departure of those that nested here in May 
and June for some more southern locality. These birds 
seem to move with the regularity ascribed to swallows, 
and I doubt if one in fifty of those that are seen as late 
as September were here during the nesting-season. These 
late birds, too, do not haunt the brier-patches, high weeds, 
and like spots ; but stay closely among the taller trees, 
and near their very tops at that, sometimes essaying a 
feeble imitation of early summer warblings. More often 
this song is now but the ineffectual efforts of young birds 
to anticipate their future capabilities in melody. 

Other equally marked changes in habits on the part 
of other birds may be mentioned as further evidence 
that migration is more gradual than has been supposed. 
As early as the beginning of August both species of 
orioles have left their spring-time haunts. Occasionally 
a male will be seen pausing on the top of some tall tree, 
and whistling as he tarries for a moment ; but where are 
now the numbers of old and young birds that nested or 



114 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

were reared in the many pendent nests in the elms and 
willows % Unlike the chats and indigo birds, the orioles 
do not all depart from the land ; but, congregating in 
loose flocks, they associate intimately with the reed-birds, 
that are now gathering by the thousands in the uplands, 
preparatory to seeking the reeds on the river shore. 
Here the orioles will remain until the second or third 
sharp frost. Again, those very unlike birds, the king- 
bird and blue-bird, will together form loose flocks and 
congregate in the meadows. This is the more difficult to 
understand as the king-bird is strictly migratory, while 
the blue-bird is only partly so ; and I am positive that 
the flocks of the two species that haunt the meadows un- 
til October are broken up at last by the king-birds pass- 
ing southward and the vast majority of the blue-birds 
returning to the uplands, where they remain the winter 
through, seeking shelter from the more violent storms in 
the dense foliage of our common cedar. 

These changes of habit, comparing May and June 
with August and September, have doubtless been brought 
about by the all-important question of food-supply, and 
in the instance of the birds last mentioned, may be looked 
upon as the first step in the return migratory movement, 
especially as it is a change from higher and cooler up- 
lands to the low-lying and warmer shores of the south- 
ward-flowing river, from near the mouth of which these 
birds make an easy overland journey to the valley beyond. 
In this way, long before winter sets in in the New Eng- 
land and Middle States, many of our spring birds have 
completed their return journey home — for home it is to 
them when they near the tropics or enter them. 

If we consider the several circumstances that would 
necessarily influence migratory movements, this actual 
irregularity in autumn is just what might be expected, 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 115 

but in the spring, when every bird, if possible, returns 
to its own home and former nest, they will not linger on 
the way, as they know too well the length of the journey 
before them. The coming duties of incubation, too, speed 
them on, and we wonder why they are not more regu- 
lar in their movements. In autumn all this is changed. 
Now nothing need hurry them, and, so long as they find 
an abundance of food, they move along leisurely, just 
keeping ahead, as it seems, of the chilling frosts of the 
coming winter, which they can easily endure, but which 
robs them of the food they must have. This is espe- 
cially true of insect-eating birds. Considered in this 
light, we are not surprised to find, then, as a rule, that 
the warblers, swallows, and such other birds as depend 
wholly upon insects for their sustenance, leave more 
promptly, and in larger numbers at one time, than do 
the granivorous birds and those that can subsist on seeds, 
though they consume insects as long as they can find 
them. 

The weather, both during September and October, is 
exceedingly variable, although never really wintry, and 
this fact makes the southward movements of the migra- 
tory, insect-eating birds equally so, inasmuch as these 
birds are not larvae-hunting species, but depend upon in- 
sects that can be caught upon the wing, or are to be 
found resting upon the leaves and twigs of the trees. 
Therefore, just so long as the heavy white frosts are de- 
layed, these insectivorous birds will linger, or move 
southward in the most leisurely way. Up to a certain 
time, usually about the middle of October, these birds 
largely increase in numbers, consequent upon the daily 
accession of those from the north, and after the maxi- 
mum is reached, their number steadily decreases, until 
but a few stragglers remain. 



# 



116 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

I feel quite confident that in exceptionally mild sea- 
sons many more migratory birds winter in southern New 
Jersey than ornithologists suspect ; and I can see in the 
lingering remnant of the great flight of warblers that an- 
nually pass through the State that gradual adaptation to 
surrounding conditions, on the part of birds, that as cen- 
turies roll by, evolve, by that mystery of mysteries the 
survival of the fittest, new species from the old. 

Again, long after the true insect-eaters have passed 
southward, beyond the limits of the State, and scarcely a 
leaf is left upon the forest-trees, when not one straggling 
fly-catcher, in a day's walk, can be found hovering about 
the many spots so lately tenanted by myriads of their 
kind, we have yet the pleasure of seeing in our rambles 
many a blithe sparrow, restless tit, or noisy nut-hatch, 
either in the fields or about leafless hedges, or haunting 
the still green but nearly deserted swampy meadows ; or 
high up in the lofty pines, and amid the thickest branches 
of the gloomy cedar, we may chance to find hosts of merry 
linnets, full of song, or fiery kinglets that scold like 
wrens, should you approach too near. 

Of our many sparrows, of which several are resident 
species, I have noted down for several years, when the 
severity of the winter was yet to come, even as late as 
the middle of December, the presence of three or four 
species that may be considered as migratory. For in- 
stance, in the wet, reedy meadows, it is not until winter 
has incased in ice the tangled grasses that the sharp- 
tailed finch and swamp - sparrow quit their home. In 
1872, and again in 1874, which latter year was the most 
remarkable for the number and variety of birds of any in 
my memory, I noticed that in the dry, upland fields, all 
through November's hazy Indian summer, the sprightly, 
black -throated bunting remained, in little companies; 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 117 

and in the quiet woodlands several retiring grosbeaks 
were seen until biting north winds drove them from their 
summer haunts. The bobolinks, in spite of the persecu- 
tion they suffer from sportsmen, hold to their reedy 
haunts, in scattering pairs, often until the first fall of 
snow, and, this same bird being occasionally seen very 
early in the spring, may possibly remain during the win- 
ter, but if so, it is very rarely. A few red- winged black- 
birds, we know, do withstand our winters, and seem to 
find food somewhere and somehow, even when the ther- 
mometer is at zero. 

The difference between the insect-eating and the seed- 
eating birds, in the more prolonged stay of the latter, 
is, I think, easily explained. In the spring, when birds 
journey north, there is an object ever in view, whilst in 
the autumn, their sole care is to be at home in time, not 
so much to escape the coming cold, as to avoid being 
pinched by hunger. 

We have seen that the first frost, though it affects vege- 
tation but little, does materially decrease insect life ; the 
swallows, as a rule, even anticipate it, and gathering in 
immense flocks they wing their way southward before it 
comes. From this, we can clearly see that the weather 
greatly influences, indeed governs, the migratory move- 
ments in autumn of the insect-eaters. It bids them de- 
part, and, in general, they heed the bidding ; but long after 
this, while there are yet berries, seeds, and fruits to be 
obtained, the migratory vegetarians linger by the way, in 
varying but considerable numbers. 

Let us now glance at the abundant and well-known 
purple grakle or crow-blackbird. The numbers of this, 
with us, partly migratory species which remain through- 
out the winter, as compared with those which are here 
during the spring and summer months, are about as ten to 



118 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

one thousand, as near as I can judge ; and, in proportion 
as the winter is mild, the percentage of those that remain 
is increased. In Massachusetts, this bird is strictly mi- 
gratory, the great bulk of those that depart from the 
north and from New Jersey wintering in the Carolinas 
and Georgia. In this species, therefore, we have an 
example of a migratory bird that is gradually becoming 
more and more accustomed, not to the rigors of winter, 
which birds are better able to withstand than they are 
generally supposed to be, but to the methods of our winter 
residents, such as wood-peckers, jays, and titmice, in pro- 
curing seasonable food. As a matter of course, food, and 
an abundance of it, must necessarily be obtained, and, on 
examination of the stomachs of grakles killed in January, 
I have found them filled with a half-digested mass of 
what appeared to be both animal and vegetable matter. 
If the grakles that remain during the winter are of a 
hardier constitution than those that migrate, then, as they 
mate very early in the year, and before the great bulk of 
the southern sojourners reach us, their offspring will nat- 
urally inherit equally vigorous constitutions, and, like their 
parents, will be more disposed to remain — at least, a large 
proportion of them will be — and in this way, wholly 
through natural selection, a race of grakles, otherwise un- 
distinguishable from the whole number of this species, 
will be evolved, that in time will replace, in great part, 
the now migratory and semi-migratory individuals. If I 
have correctly explained a change now in progress, in 
the habits of this and other species, then can we not from 
it gain a clew to one, at least, of the original causes of the 
habit of migrating? 

The act of migrating being the passage from one dis- 
tant point to another, it is evident that the cause or 
causes of this movement, as the case may be, operate at 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 119 

either terminus of the journey. A warbler that winters 
in Florida and breeds near the Arctic circle is influenced 
by a cause that exists at each terminus, or rather by 
two differing causes, each peculiar to the location, for it 
is wholly incredible that it is the same cause that induces 
both the visit to northern regions and the return to a 
southern clime ; therefore there must be at least two 
reasons for the habit — one inducing the bird to migrate 
northward in the spring, another compelling it to return 
in the autumn. If it be possible now to demonstrate 
what these causes are, and how the same cause can influ- 
ence all migratory birds, considering that their habits are 
otherwise so totally different, it will not then necessarily 
follow that it was the originating cause of the habit. 
When, indeed, did this migration commence ? How far 
back into the world's geological history must we go to 
trace the first bird that was forced to seek another and 
far-distant land wherein to rear its young and find for 
its offspring and itself sufficient food ? "What conditions 
of heat and cold, land and water, summer and winter, 
then obtained, that birds must needs fly from coming 
rigors of scorching sun, or ice and floods, or perish where 
they were? Was it from living in such a world that 
migration originated, and became, strangely enough, 
characteristic of only a fraction of the whole number? 
How, too, could birds have learned the oncoming of dis- 
astrous times, and know just where to seek a safe harbor 
and secure rest ? Clearly it could have been only by a 
very gradual accumulation of experiences extending over 
many generations, before the few progenitors of our many 
birds gained the happy knowledge that here in the north 
we have months of sunny summer weather and a wealth 
of pleasant places. I shall not go back, then, of the Gla- 
cial period, but rest content with it as having been the 



120 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

starting-point in time of birds' migratory movements. The 
progenitor of our score of warblers, the one tyrant fly- 
catcher, from which all our species have sprung, the 
vireos, the goatsuckers, and cuckoos, then very few in 
species, if indeed there were more than one of each, must 
have been influenced by the presence of the icy barriers 
that shut them off for the time being from a vast portion 
of the northern world, and at the close or closing of that 
wonderful period it may be that migration commenced, 
yet why and how it is hard even to conjecture. Knowing 
that it commenced then or recommenced, if previously 
a feature of bird life, we have now to inquire what are 
its apparent causes at present ; but, before inquiring into 
these, may we not, after all, ask if migration be not an 
inherited habit, the originating causes of which are not 
now in operation? The conditions not obtaining that 
necessitate migration, does it not become a case of sur- 
vival of habit, just as in man many customs now exist, 
the origin and proper meaning of which are wholly lost ? 
That this is true of the migration of all birds I do not 
believe, but that it partially holds good with some species 
I am fully convinced. As an inherited habit, but one 
now not absolutely necessary to the birds' welfare, I can 
see why it should be, as it frequently is, so greatly influ- 
enced by surrounding circumstances and conditions. 

Taking the movement from its proper starting-point, 
which I assume to be the movement from south to north 
in the three spring months, we must now look for suf- 
ficient causes to induce the undertaking of such long jour- 
neys. These causes are suggested by the two principal 
objects effected on their arrival at their northern destina- 
tion — the rearing of their young, and procuring suitable 
and sufficient food for both themselves and offspring. 
If migration is for these two purposes only, then it should 



THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 121 

prove to be the case that food was not sufficiently abun- 
dant in the south for both its resident and migratory birds. 
This certainly could not have been the case, and I believe, 
therefore, that migratory movements, at the outset, were 
very limited in extent, and consisted only of a few birds 
at a time, which, seeking to avoid their enemies and have 
undisturbed possession of a locality, pushed out from 
their accustomed haunts for, comparatively speaking, a 
few miles. The young of such pioneer birds would 
naturally leave the neighborhood of their nest and return 
to their parents' usual haunt with them ; but, on the re- 
turn of another breeding-season, they would themselves 
seek a nesting-place near where they themselves were 
reared, and the older birds would go to the same nest or 
nesting-place that they previously had occupied. This 
is precisely what occurs now, year after year. Now, as 
birds increased, century after century, the limits of this 
northward movement would be extended, until it became 
in time the journey of thousands of miles that it now is. 

Assuming, then, that migration arose for the dual 
purpose of safe nidification and a certainty of sufficient 
food, we are met by the ugly question, " Why do not all 
the southern birds come north?" If, when the whole 
avi-fauna was concentrated at the south, there was any 
struggle whatever for favorable feeding- or breeding- 
grounds, then, naturally, the weaker would go to the 
wall, or, in other words, would be driven beyond the 
limits of their accustomed habitat. These weaker birds, 
taken together, having once formed the habit of visiting 
certain localities at stated times for given purposes, or 
being periodically forced to do so, they would vary in 
their methods of reaching these localities, in their choice 
of regions wherein to remain, and in the length of their 
annual visit, just in proportion as their habits generally 
6 



122 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

varied from those of both other species of the same family 
and from species of other families. For instance, to 
avoid a common enemy, a number of species might have 
gradually learned to migrate at night ; while others, al- 
though forced to migrate, had not this same enemy to 
contend with, and so traveled only by day. In this way 
the habit of nocturnal migration would long ago have 
been formed, and it would, by inheritance, be continued 
by their descendants, even after the enemy had been long 
extinct. 

Having reached their northern summer homes, and, 
free from molestation, reared their broods, clearly, if all 
things needed for their comfort were to be obtained, it 
can not be supposed that these same birds would unneces- 
sarily retrace their long flight to the distant south. This 
suggests that, if I am correct in assuming that birds first 
appeared in a tropical climate, and from such climate 
migration started, it is probable that, by gradually pro- 
longing their northern visits and accustoming themselves 
to northern insect and vegetable life, these regions be- 
came populated by their resident species. It is evident 
that the present migratory species are simply compelled 
to return, and three compelling causes are demonstrable. 
Primarily, the sudden increase of cold at the close of the 
brief northern summer, which starts southward those 
farthest at the north. This accession of intense cold 
necessarily decreases the amount of food, and the birds 
are now forced to find it elsewhere. Farther and farther 
south they come, just in advance of the cold, and slower 
and slower they proceed as they enter our more temper- 
ate latitude, and here, resting as it were, they linger 
until a keen frost kills their insect-food, and, scattering 
the leaves, robs them of their main shelter from their 
enemies, happily fewer now than formerly, and now still 



THE MIGRATION OF IXLAXD BIRDS. 123 

southward they proceed, until they reach a home in lands 
blessed with perpetual summer. 

I have now traced these migratory species from south 
to north, and back to their southern habitat, and endeav- 
ored to point out the several operating causes of the 
movement as I did so. I have already suggested the 
possibility of migration being an inherited habit not now 
necessary. Xow, be this true or not, it is evident that 
the habit is not so fixed that ordinary changes in sur- 
rounding conditions do not greatly influence it. This, I 
think, is shown by the irregularity of the movement that 
really occurs, and the tendency on the part of many 
species to modify the habit by occasionally halting much 
to the south of their usual breeding-grounds, and by re- 
maining later and later in autumn ; and, again, by the 
fact that many birds are now only partially migratory, 
and that others occasionally migrate simply in search of 
food, irrespective of seasons, thus exhibiting, as it were, 
traces of a habit they have long lost. 

In the migration of a bird, then, I see simply a tem- 
porary sojourn in a distant locality for the purpose of 
rearing its offspring in safety ; the cause being implied 
by the term " safety, 55 that is, freedom from enemies and 
an abundance of food. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 

Haying read with great delight Mr. Wallace's essays 
on the " Philosophy of Birds' Nests," and his theory 
concerning them, it occurred to me to see how far his 
views were applicable to the hundreds of nests that were 
yearly built in my favorite haunts about home ; for, 
whether I rambled by the river's shore, or the wooded 
creek-bank nearer by, in the open meadows or the upland 
fields, by the weedy angles of the zigzag fences, or in the 
depths of the woods, I soon noticed that, whatever else 
might be wanting, some one kind of bird, at least, had 
found in every locality a fitting place for its nest. 

At first, there appeared to be such a similarity in the 
nests that I almost came to the conclusion that birds could 
only construct them in one manner, and were incapable 
of varying from it ; that they did not exercise any judg- 
ment in the work, and that to-day their nests were but 
fac-similes of those built by their remotest ancestors in 
the indefinite past. 

This idea of fixedness of habit was formerly very gen- 
erally, and to a limited extent is still, taught as true not 
only of birds but of all animals. It is the natural out- 
come of the old creative theory of life, and is, I need 
scarcely add, utterly false. 

Whatever may have been the peculiarities of the 
original bird-like creature, before losing reptilian and as- 



A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' XE3TS. 125 

suniing decidedly avian features, it certainly bore no re- 
semblance to any living bird, the oldest form of which was 
long since evolved from a still more primitive avian, and 
at the same time distinctively reptilian, creature. These 
changes having been wrought in the birds themselves, it 
would be strange indeed if there had not been a corre- 
sponding want of fixity in their habits. 

As to the general correctness of the views of Mr. 
Wallace concerning the motive that causes certain birds 
to build nests of a particular pattern, I have no criticism 
to make. Suffice it to say, that the results given in the 
following pages will show that, to a certain extent at 
least, his views will apply to our birds. "With these cau- 
tionary remarks we are now ready to take up the results 
of my short studies of the nests themselves, which were 
originally made several years ago, but which have been 
verified during each succeeding summer. 

Having carefully examined the nest of a particular 
kind of bird, which seemed to agree most nearly with 
the published descriptions, I then noted each nest found, 
and marked the amount of variation in the construction 
and position. Take, for instance, the nest of our common 
robin. Here we have a nest largely constructed of coarse 
twigs and grass, lined with a " cup-shaped fabric of clay 
or mud," this mud being covered with finer grass, horse- 
hair, and occasionally a few feathers. It is an excellent 
nest to study, as it shows fully the amount of variation 
practiced in their construction. During the spring and 
summer of 1873 I found thirty-two of these nests in an 
area of about four hundred acres. Of these thirty-two I 
shall speak, principally with reference to the care exhib- 
ited in the mud lining, and refer but incidentally to their 
positions. Eleven of them were what might be called 
" typical " ; as in them the mud lining was complete, ex- 



126 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

tending to within an inch., or a little more, of the rim or 
top of the structure. 

In fourteen, the mud lining was more or less incom- 
plete, although it always extended over the bottom of 
the nest, or of so much of the interior surface as was 
necessary for the eggs or very young birds to rest upon. 
Without an exception, the fine grass and hair lining the 
interior of each nest were in greater proportion as the 
mud lining was imperfect, so that, in some instances, the 
mud being concealed, the nests were very similar to those 
of other thrushes. 

The remaining seven nests were " abnormal," each of 
them occupying a different position from that which the 
robin is usually supposed to select. A careful study of 
the surroundings, however, showed that there was always 
some outside advantage, such as immediate proximity to 
abundant food, which may have had some influence in 
the choice of location. As- an instance, one of these 
seven nests was placed in a deep cleft in the trunk of an 
apple-tree. It had a southern exposure, was protected 
from rain by the trunk and branches of the tree, and 
altogether was admirably located. But, as the tree itself 
had an abundance of branches, which for many summers 
had had robins 5 nests among them, there seemed to be 
some reason why this particular location was now occu- 
pied for the first time. What was the cause of this 
change from the branches to the cleft I could not dis- 
cover. The nest itself was merely a few coarse twigs, 
projecting about two inches from the trunk of the tree, 
and intended for the necessary support of that portion of 
the " clay fabric " not resting upon the tree itself. When 
completed, the structure much resembled a modified cliff- 
swallow's nest, such as these birds build under the eaves 
of barns. 



A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 127 

If now, as Mr. Wallace has pointed out, and, as I be- 
lieve, conclusively shown, young birds build their nests 
through imitation, then the young robins reared in thi& 
nest will seek out somewhat similar situations for their 
own nests. Should such a locality not suit the bird's 
mate, then a more exposed position would be chosen, as is 
usually the case, and some of the peculiarities of the nest 
in which one of the pair was reared would, I doubt not, 
be retained. If, however, it should happen that the pair 
in question were brother and sister, then it is probable 
that an identical nest would be constructed, if a similar 
locality could be found. Notwithstanding the wander- 
ing disposition of oar robins, it can be shown that the 
same pair, year after year, return to the same locality to 
build ; and if they, or indeed, if birds of any kind remain 
together, or having separated they come again together, 
year after year, there is no reason why the brood of one 
year may not become more or less associated during the 
ensuing spring, when they may mate and construct nests 
of their own. I am very positive that this in-breeding 
occurs very often among resident species, and with no 
ill effects. We see it constantly, too, in our domestic 
pigeons. 

In comparing the eleven typical nests of the robin, it 
could not but be noticed that minor differences or pecul- 
iarities existed. These small variations were in size, 
which was in fact considerable ; in shape, some of the 
nests being oval rather than circular ; in the choice of 
material for the interior lining, and, in one case, this 
lining, I am sorry to say, was surprisingly like that of a 
chipping-sparrow's nest, and had probably been stolen. 
Indeed, among robins, as well as among all other birds, 
there are individual rogues, as well as cross-grained, scold- 
ing wives and husbands. 



128 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Taking a careful survey of the whole thirty-two nests, 
they suggested at once an ordinary village : there were, 
for instance, handsome structures, and then again very 
modest ones ; and while, perhaps, strictly speaking, the 
causes that produce this variation in the dwelling-places 
of birds are not the same as those which lead to a similar 
state of affairs among mankind, yet in a remote degree 
they are believed to be in many respects analogous. 
For instance, there are industrious birds and lazy ones ; 
plucky birds that are not daunted by obstacles, and de- 
spondent ones that are cast down by shadows ; and this 
of itself will account for a great deal of the variation in 
birds' nests. That birds differ greatly in their tempera- 
ments can hardly be doubted, and, if this be admitted, 
may we not go a step further and claim also differences 
in mental capacity, or, in plain language, may we not 
say that the " smarter " the bird the better the nest ? 
# Why these nests of the robin vary, simply is — a mud- 
lined nest being that which formerly, if not at present, 
was best suited to the bird's welfare — that a bird reared 
in a poorly constructed and partially lined nest may 
prove to be of greater ability and more energetic than its 
parents, and this, joined with the fact that the bird's 
mate may have been reared in a nest of perfect construc- 
tion, of itself, would tend to remedy in part the defects in 
construction that its partner might allow ; the facts to- 
gether would certainly secure an approach to, if not the 
complete attainment of, a typical robin's nest. So, as the 
years roll by, the nest of the robin would remain substan- 
tially the same ; but what slight variations circumstances 
have caused to be made, if not detrimental, would also 
be continued, and, if any marked changes of environment 
occurred, increased. 

Why, indeed, a robin should line its nest with mud, 



A SEOET STUDY OF BIBBS' NESTS. 129 

and its near relatives, the wood-thrush and cat-bird, 
should not, is not known ; but as changes gradually 
brought about by man's agency have already effected 
changes in the habits of some of our birds, so these same 
changes, ever in progress in the haunts of the robin, may 
cause these birds to gradually omit this lining of mud, 
and so make their habitations more like those of other 
thrushes ; just as the cliff-swallow, with us, no longer 
places a " bottle-neck " opening to its mud-built nests. 

There is an instability in the whole range of the hab- 
its of birds going hand-in-hand with the undoubted ten- 
dency to variation in their anatomical structure, exces- 
sively slow as this is. Natural selection, or whatever may 
be the determining influence that governs it, controls 
as surely the range of variation in the details of the con- 
struction of their nests, inasmuch as these variations are 
the inevitable results of changes wrought in the physical 
construction of the creatures themselves. Stripped of 
the haze that metaphysics has gathered about it, the op- 
erations of the mind, whether in man or bird, are only 
the curious results of the working of those fatty atoms, 
intimately combined, which we call the brain, and by no 
argumentation can the two be separated. They are just 
as interdependent, and as much parts of a single whole, as 
the eye and sight, the nose and smell, hearing and the 
ear, the circulation of the blood and the beating of the 
heart. 

A nest of a totally different character, that of the 
Baltimore oriole, was more carefully studied, inasmuch 
as it afforded more marked variations from what may be 
considered the typical form of such a structure. 

In the essays by Mr. Wallace (" On Natural Selec- 
tion," by A. R. Wallace, London, 1870, p. 211 et seq.), 



130 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

the conclusion is drawn that, where a nest is so construct- 
ed as to conceal the sitting bird, the occupant, in all such 
cases, is of bright, showy plumage, and would easily be 
detected by birds of prey, if not concealed when on the 
nest. Of the family Icteridce, to which the Baltimore ori- 
ole belongs, Mr. Wallace says : " The red or yellow and 
black plumage of most of these birds is very conspicuous, 
and is exactly alike in both sexes. [This is not true of 
the Baltimore oriole, the female of which is much less 
brightly colored.] They are celebrated for their fine, 
purse-shaped, pensile nests." Now, there are two consid- 
erations worthy of attention with reference to this bird 
and the character of its nest. In the first place, as the 
male bird is much brighter than the female in its plum- 
age, would it not require a concealing nest if it assisted 
in incubation ? Now, does the male bird take part in 
covering the eggs ? Unquestionably it does. Secondly, 
if the bird-concealing nest, a " pendulous and nearly cy- 
lindrical pouch," is constructed solely with reference to 
the protection of the parent birds, would it not be within 
the range of probabilities that, no danger existing, the 
labor of constructing so elaborate a nest would be aban- 
doned ? Has this actually occurred ? 

During the summer of 1872, 1 found nine nests of the 
Baltimore oriole within a comparatively small area ; in 
1873, I succeeded in finding seventeen nests in an area 
nearly ten times as large ; and during the summer of 
1874 I found thirteen nests in an area of the same extent 
as that examined in 1873. 

These thirty-nine nests I classified as follows : of the 
nine examined in 1872, six were so constructed as to ef- 
fectually conceal the sitting bird, and three were suffi- 
ciently open at the top to give a hawk hovering above it 
a view of the occupant. 



A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 131 

Of the seventeen which I found and inspected during 
the summer of 1873, eleven were "bird concealing" in 
their shape, and the remaining six like the three I found 
in 1872 — i. e., were open at the top. 

During the summer of 1874, Baltimore orioles were 
unusually abundant, and of the thirteen nests found, 
eight were open at the top, and five were long, pendulous 
pouches that wholly hid the sitting bird. 

Bearing in mind the supposed reason for building a 
nest that would conceal the parent birds when occupying 
it, I noted down the exact location of each of these thirty- 
nine nests. In every instance, those that concealed the 
sitting bird were at a considerable distance from any 
house, in uncultivated parts, the larger portion being on 
an unfrequented island; the others were on elm-trees 
growing on the banks of a lonely creek. In both these 
localities sparrow-hawks were seen frequently, when 
compared with their appearance in the neighborhoods 
selected for the building of open-topped nests, all of 
which were in willow and elm trees in the yards of farm- 
houses, and in full view of people continually passing to 
and fro. 

The conclusion drawn from the study of these nests 
was, that the orioles, knowing that there was in this case 
but little danger from hawks, constructed a less elaborate 
nest, one which answered every purpose of incubation, 
though it did not conceal the parent birds when occupy- 
ing it. 

Of the nests that did not conceal the sitting birds, 
every one was really open at the top, and the bird entered 
from above. The weight of the bird when in the nest 
appeared to draw the edges of the rim together sufficiently 
to shut out all view of the occupant. The rims of those 
nests that when occupied concealed the birds were all 



132 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

much smaller, and the nest itself was deeper, than were 
any of those nests where concealment was not considered 
in the construction ; these latter being in every way much 
like the ordinary nests of the orchard oriole. 

Originally, in all probability, when its enemies were 
more numerous, especially the smaller hawks, the nest of 
the Baltimore oriole was perfectly closed at the top and 
had an opening at the side ; but, of the hundreds of these 
nests that I have seen, I have never yet found one that 
was constructed in this manner. 

Perhaps as great a change in the manner of construct- 
ing nests as that given in the case of the Baltimore ori- 
ole is shown in an instance that occurred under my 
notice in 1875, and has since been repeated every year 
(1880) by, probably, the same pair of birds. This is the 
construction of a semi-globular, supported nest, in a pine- 
tree, by the orchard or bastard orioles. The materials 
used in building it were the leaves of the pine, or " pine- 
needles," as we call them. A few strands of long grass 
and a bit or two of thread entered into the rim of the 
nest, and seemed merely to outline the top and hold to- 
gether the slight twigs to which the nest was attached. 
The pine-needles were woven into a basket, and supported 
by a stray thread or a single long, flexible blade of grass, 
placed here and there through the nest. The bottom of 
the structure rested on a twig, so that in no respect was 
it suspended. While ordinarily these orioles build a less 
carefully constructed nest than does the Baltimore oriole, 
still it is usually suspended, and made of long, flexible 
grass, closely interwoven. The nests in the pine-tree, 
on the other hand, were remarkable for the almost total 
absence of any suitable flexible materials. This could 
not have arisen from their absence, as Baltimore orioles 



A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 133 

built three nests in the immediate vicinity, and had no 
trouble in finding as much long grass, hair, and bits of 
twine as they needed. 

The nest of the orchard orioles made of pine-needles 
was rebuilt in the pine-tree in precisely the same man- 
ner in 1878 and in 1879. In 1880 two such nests were 
built. In 1876 and 1877 the nests were built in apple- 
trees near by, and pine-needles were used. "Why the 
pine-tree was deserted for two years is to be explained 
by the fact that, in those years, a colony of purple grakles 
occupied that and the adjoining trees during the nesting 
season ; and, considering the noise they made, night and 
day, it is scarcely to be wondered at that the orioles should 
seek other localities for their summer home. The grakles 
did not appear in 1878 and 1879, so the orioles again had 
the pine to themselves while nesting. In 1881 and the 
past summer, 1882, the grakles were back, and no orioles 
nested in the pine ; but I found a nest of theirs in a pear- 
tree near by, and this, like all the others, was made almost 
wholly of pine-needles. 

The present nesting-habits of the chimney-swallow 
are worthy of some consideration, in connection with the 
subject of variation in the nidification of birds. It 
may be laid down as a fixed habit of this bird, that, at 
present, it constructs its nest only in chimneys. The ex- 
ceptional cases that have been mentioned recently are too 
few to render qualification of this statement necessary. 
Now, as chimneys have been available less than three 
centuries, where, prior to this, were the nests of this bird 
placed? Peter Kalm says of these birds, writing one 
hundred and thirty years ago : " They derive their name 
from nests built in chimneys which are not made use of 
in summer : sometimes, when the smoke is not very great, 



134 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

they do not mind the smoke, and remain in the chimney. 
I did npt see them this year [1749] till late in May, but 
in the ensuing year [1750] they arrived on the 3d of 
May, for they appear much later than the other swallows." 
(This is not true of them at present. They invariably 
follow the bank-swallow, and precede by several days 
the rest of the swallow tribes. The chimney-swallow, 
furthermore, is not a true swallow but a swift, birds of 
a very different family, but with similar habits.) It is 
remarkable that each feather in their tail ends in a stiff, 
sharp point, like the end of an awl ; they apply the tail 
to the side of the wall in the chimneys, hold themselves 
with their feet, and the stiff tail serves to keep them up. 
They make a great thundering noise all the day long by 
flying up and down in the chimneys ; and, as they build 
their nests in chimneys only, and it is well known that 
the Indians have not so much as a hearth made of ma- 
sonry, much less a chimney, but make their fires on the 
ground in their huts, it is an obvious question, Where did 
the swallows build their nests before the Europeans came 
and made houses with chimneys? It is probable that 
they formerly made them in great hollow trees." 

This view of Kalm's is correct, as is well known. I 
had the good fortune in 1869 to find a "great hollow 
tree " in a piece of woodland that was thus tenanted by a 
colony of these birds. The nests did not vary at all from 
those found in chimneys. I judged the cause of this return 
to the old-time habit of nesting in trees was the fact that 
the chimney of a small house near by, in which the swal- 
lows were accustomed to build, had been closed to them 
by a wire netting, and, as the nearest available chimneys 
were all tenanted by swallows, these "shut out" birds 
were forced to seek some available locality in a tree or 
crevice of a rock, or else quit the neighborhood. Ac- 



A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 135 

cepting the only alternative, they availed themselves of 
a hollow chestnut-tree, where they were, to all appear- 
ance, as well suited as they would have been in their 
former haunts. My curiosity was roused to know what 
the following summer would have to show. Would they 
return to the tree ? In April and May of 1870, I care- 
fully watched for them, but not a swallow appeared. 

The nests of the chimney-swallows, when placed in 
hollow trees, are, of course, greatly exposed to the attacks 
of owls and such carnivorous mammals as are good 
climbers, and it is highly probable that, in the case of 
these birds, we have an instance of birds thriving better 
and increasing in numbers, in consequence of the envi- 
ronment being greatly altered by man's agency. The 
habit of building nests of a particular pattern and many 
together has remained the same ; but, the artificial locali- 
ties offered being a great improvement over anything in 
Mature, the birds have been correspondingly benefited. 



CHAPTER XV. 



THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 



During the spring and summer of 1874 especially, 
and at all favorable opportunities since, my out-door 
studies were largely confined to particular phases of bird- 
life, rather than to their habits generally. Most promi- 
nent among these was that of singing, and its relation to 
the other utterances of birds ; for I had been long under 
the impression, and since am fully convinced, that a bird's 
song bears just the same relationship to its various chirps, 
twitters, and calls, that singing with mankind bears to 
ordinary conversation. 

Early in the morning of any bright May day, passing, 
on my lookout for new arrivals among the migratory 
birds, along some woody slope glistening with dew and 
glorious in floral decoration, I am greeted by a loud 
chirp ! In an instant a hundred melodious voices are 
hushed, and not until I have remained quiet for several 
moments is the concert resumed ; then the bird that gave 
this warning call seeks some more elevated perch, and, 
with head erect, he again takes up the strain. Another 
and another songster joins in the chorus, and again the 
woods ring with the united voices of thrushes, wrens, spar- 
rows, and warblers beyond count. 

It may be objected, at the very outset, that all are not 
singing birds, and the fact of non-singing birds outnum- 
bering the others disposes effectually of my theory. 



THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 137 

"Whoever heard an owl sing?" is asked in derision. 
Well, my good friend, do you call the shrill, cacophonous 
shouts of savages singing ? Yet we know that to these 
same savage peoples their weird cries and monotonous 
drumming are as melodious as the best efforts of a prima 
donna are to us. While, as we understand melody, some 
species of birds are endowed with marked musical abil- 
ities and others are devoid of them, it does not follow 
that the latter have not a series of notes or utterances 
pleasurable to themselves and to their fellows. To deny 
this is really to assert that some birds are gifted with 
song for man's pleasure instead of for their own. This is 
a common expression, I know, but it is utterly absurd. 
Careful observation will enable any one to see clearly 
that every bird has a considerable range of utterance, 
which is divisible into cries or expressions of various 
kinds, each, of course, having a different and uniform 
meaning. Some of the low, monotonous notes of brood- 
ing birds are evidently uttered for their soothing effect 
upon themselves, their mates and young, and are only 
heard during the nesting season. The truth is, a bird 
can only be rightly understood by a bird, and a naturalist 
must spend years in patient watching, often for days to- 
gether, and must have made himself familiar to the birds, 
before he can witness a tithe of the many acts which go 
to prove that they approach nearer to reasoning beings 
than is generally supposed. 

Space does not allow me to give all the details that I 
have jotted down during my rambles about home, and 1 
must content myself with an occasional extract from my 
note-book, in the effort to interpret briefly the songs of 
many of our birds. 

Including some twenty species of warblers, more or 
less regular in their yearly appearance, there are in Cen- 



138 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

tral New Jersey fifty-four birds, resident and migratory, 
that can be considered as strictly singing birds. These 
may with perfect propriety be classed in accordance with 
their peculiar temperaments, as vivacious, sprightly, or 
dull ; meaning thereby to express three degrees of ani- 
mation in their songs. As instances of the first may be 
named the house-w r ren and Baltimore oriole, the song- 
sparrow and indigo bird belong to the second class, and 
in the third are to be found the bluebird and the peewee. 
Now, the songs of these birds can not in any sense be 
looked upon as a uniform series of notes — a stereotyped 
whistle or an unvarying warble, as is said of them by 
the late Dr. Holland in the following stanzas : 

" The robin repeats his two musical words, 
The meadow-lark whistles his one refrain ; 
And steadily, over and over again, 
The same song swells from a hundred birds." 

" Bobolink, chick-a-dee, blackbird, and jay, 

Thrasher and woodpecker, cuckoo and wren, 
Each sings its word or its phrase, and then 
It has nothing further to sing or to say." 

But, as a matter of fact, they do have other songs to sing, 
and do find plenty to say when occasion requires. While 
as a rule the song of any bird, when once known, can 
usually be recognized when heard a second time, yet this 
is not always the case, for the reason that our songsters 
do, at times, vary their notes in the most striking man- 
ner. This is such a frequent occurrence, and is so uni- 
versally true of our song-birds, as effectually to disprove 
the assertion that they have " nothing further to sing or 
to say." 

As has been said, the various songs of the fifty odd 
kinds of singing birds can be readily placed under one 



THE SOXGS OF BIRDS. ■ 139 

or the other of these three headings; and, curiously 
enough, in every case the song is indicative of the char- 
acter of the bird or vice versa. Unquestionably there is 
a close connection between the song and temperament ; 
in fact, it may be laid down as a law that the latter de- 
cides the character of the former. This has, I think, a 
strong bearing on the question of the origin of the songs 
themselves, as I do not entertain the suggestion that some 
birds were created songsters, while others were denied 
this power. Rather, it seems to me that, from cries of 
alarm, and quick, hearty chirps expressive of satisfaction, 
there have been evolved the melodious notes of our most 
accomplished songsters. Why may not this be so ? Cer- 
tainly by analogous processes our present civilization has 
produced in time the elaborate music of the present 
day, from the harsh, discordant attempts at melody on 
the part of existing savage races, just as they were the 
outcome of still ruder sounds in which man's primeval, 
pre-human ancestry indulged. 

Let us now consider for a moment one fact in regard 
to these songs that separates them from the other utter- 
ances of birds, and that is, that the bird sings solely for 
the pleasure of listening himself, or of being listened to 
by his fellows, and the song bears no relation whatever 
to any of his preceding or subsequent movements. From 
this it would appear that the song of a bird is an expres- 
sion that gives pleasure to the bird itself and to others 
of its kind, which latter fact is recognized by the singer, 
and thus affords him additional satisfaction. In brief, 
the reason that birds sing is precisely the same as that 
which induces man to cultivate music, which, by the way, 
was originally exclusively vocal. 

We shall now turn to the other class of utterances of 
these same birds, and carefully note them down in all 



140 RAMBLES ABOUT ROME. 

their variations. There is in them material for months 
of careful study, and any one who has an opportunity to 
listen to a pair of newly-mated birds will be struck with 
amazement at the great variety of sounds, all evident 
expressions of the varied mental impressions of the mo- 
ment. These " notes," as we may call them, are usually 
low, and many are scarcely audible, unless we happen to 
get very near the birds and yet remain unseen. 

In this whole class of sounds other than the true song, 
we have a guide to their proper interpretation in the very 
evident fact that all such single expressions, as chirps, 
trills, twitters, and shrill cries, are always accompanied 
by movements which are closely related to them. A 
bird singing, except during courtship, when gymnastics 
are indulged in, does not busy itself with anything else 
at the same time. Thus, for instance, if busy feeding, 
at the moment of inspiration, it quits its search for food, 
and, taking up a suitable position, it begins its song and 
keeps it up until wearied with the repetition or called 
by its mate, or, struck by a sudden thought, away it goes, 
to work it may be, or else it flies off to some distant 
place. When, however, it is busy hunting for food, the 
low chirps and an occasional twitter that accompany the 
search indicate, if alone, that it is talking to itself, or, if 
with company, that it is talking to them ; for a bird sur- 
rounded by others, or in company with its mate, will 
chirp more loudly and with a greater variation of notes 
than when alone. If disturbed at such a time, how dif- 
ferent an utterance is heard ! Who can doubt the mean- 
ing of a frightened bird's alarm-cry ? And how quickly 
is it responded to on the part of all the birds within hear- 
ing? 

Probably the most marked instance of a difference in 
the habits that accompany the chirp and the song proper 



TEE SONGS OF BIRDS. ' 141 

can be seen in the chewink or towhee bunting. This 
bird keeps upon the ground nearly the whole time. Its 
nest is always there, and its food is found under dead 
leaves lying upon the ground. Now, while it hops about, 
it utters, with much regularity and frequency, a double 
chirp, which has given rise to its local name, che-wink. 
A person might watch one of these birds for half a day 
and never suspect that it had any song or other note 
than the cheery che-wink, che-wink, it so frequently 
utters. It so happens, however, that it has a moderately 
sweet song, though it never yet was known to sing it 
while standing upon the ground. If moved to sing, it 
mounts upon a low bank or on the lower limb of a tree, 
and whistles, " Chee-dd ! chee-do ! tree-de-re de-re, de-re ! " 
and then down on the ground it goes again. 

The plain meaning of this, I take it, is that the chirps 
are not a song, nor are they intended by the bird as such, 
but that the more elaborate notes, uttered when in a bush 
or tree, do constitute his song, and this he sings for the 
gratification of himself and friends. 

Again, observe two birds immediately after mating, 
and what a laughable caricature of a newly-married cou- 
ple — say on their wedding journey — are their actions and 
their low ceaseless twittering ! They also have their 
petty vexations and their little quarrels, in which the 
feminine voice is ever the louder and more rapid in its 
utterance, and its owner enjoys the precious privilege of 
the last word. 

I have often witnessed such quarrels, and the literally 
hen-pecked husband has always been compelled to sub- 
mit to his tyrannical partner. If he be lazy, woe betide 
him when nest-building commences, as it does so soon 
after mating. His gay feathers will soon lose their 
prim appearance, and mayhap only the fraction of a tail 



142 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

will be left him, but, in spite of all this, he will cheer his 
brooding mate with his choicest songs ; singing, I have 
sometimes thought, with greater fervor from the con- 
sciousness that his wife is too busy at home to bother 
him. 

But what has all this to do with language ? Just this, 
that it depends on the manner in which things go on 
between the birds, whether the chirps and twitters are 
low, musical, and deliberately uttered, or whether they 
are shrill, cacophonous, and so rapidly repeated that the 
birds, if unseen, can not be recognized by their voices. 

But it may be urged that, to constitute language, or 
something akin to it, these chirps and twitters must be 
shown to convey ideas. Can one bird tell another any- 
thing ? it will be asked. To this I answer that, if any one 
has watched a colony of brooding grakles, or paid close 
attention to a flock of crows, he has probably satisfied 
himself upon this point. Crows have twenty-seven dis- 
tinct cries, calls, or utterances, each readily distinguishable 
from the other, and each having an unmistakable con- 
nection with a certain class of actions ; some of which, as, 
for instance, the many different notes of the brooding- 
birds, are only heard at certain seasons. In this connec- 
tion, it may be added that the intelligence of crows is 
fully one half greater than that of any other bird in our 
fauna. Instances of the exercise of much cunning and 
forethought on their part are almost innumerable. 

Let us see, however, if among our singing-birds there 
is not to be found evidence of an ability to communicate 
ideas, presumably by the aid of vocal sounds. Here is 
an occurrence that took place in my presence in the 
spring of 1872. A pair of cat-birds were noticed carry- 
ing materials for a nest to a patch of blackberry-briers 
hard by. To test their ingenuity, I took a long, narrow 






THE SOXGS OF BIRDS. 143 

strip of muslin, too long for one bird to cany conven- 
iently, and placed it on the ground in a position to be 
seen by the birds when searching for suitable materials 
for their nest. In a few moments one of the cat-birds 
spied the strip and endeavored to carry it off, but its 
length and weight, in whichever way the bird took hold 
of it, and he tried many, impeded its flight. After wor- 
rying over it for some time the bird flew off, not, as I 
supposed, to seek other materials, but, as it proved, to ob- 
tain assistance in transporting the strip of muslin in ques- 
tion. In a few moments it returned with its mate, and 
then, standing near the strip, they held what I consider 
to have been a consultation. The chirping, twittering, 
murmuring, and occasional ejaculations were all unmis- 
takable. In a few moments this chattering, if you will, 
ceased, and the work commenced. Each took hold of the 
strip of muslin at about the same distance from the ends, 
and, starting exactly together, they flew toward their un- 
finished nest, bearing the prize successfully away. 

I followed them as quickly as possible, and, reaching 
the brier-patch, never before or since heard such an in- 
terminable wrangling and jabbering. Had I not seen 
the birds, I doubt if I should have recognized them 
from their voices. The poor birds simply could not 
agree how to use so long a piece of material to the best 
advantage. If it had been shorter, they might have made 
it serviceable : but as it was, being neither willing to dis- 
card it nor able to agree as to its proper use, they finally 
abandoned it altogether, and so too thev did the unfin- 
ished nest and the neighborhood. 

From what has been said, I can not see how birds can 
logically be denied language. A hundred instances sim- 
ilar to this in the essential details occur every spring day, 
and they all prove that a bird has some means of commu- 



144 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

nicating its thoughts to its companions ; and, as we know- 
that they have a large range of utterances, is it not pre- 
sumable that these are in large part the media by which 
their thoughts are expressed ? "We can only judge by the 
same standard which we apply to man, and, when so 
judged, it must I think be admitted that birds have a 
spoken language. 

"We have also seen that these various utterances are 
only expressed when the bird is occupied, and that their 
songs proper are only sung when the bird is quiet or giv- 
ing its whole attention to the act of singing, for the fact 
that they often sing while flying does not contradict this ; 
and these facts, it is believed, are sufficient to show that 
birds, like mankind, sing for pleasure and talk from ne- 
cessity. 

My own observations have led me to this conclusion. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

CHATS AND WEENS : A SUMMER 5 S STUDY. 

I first saw the chat on Sunday, May 9, 1874. From 
the topmost branch of a tall locust he sailed, with unsteady 
wings and dangling legs, upward and outward for some 
distance, uttering a few harsh squeaks, and then alighting, 
he warbled a series of sweet, liquid notes, followed in turn 
by sounds like the yelp of a puppy, the squeak of a squir- 
rel, or the dull creaking of a rusty weather-vane. Then, 
hopping from twig to twig, searching for insects, he added 
his own peculiar chirp, alternated with low yet distinct 
notes, quite indescribable, but all hollow, ghost-like, and 
gloomy. These weird, mournful groans, plaintive calls, 
and cries as of some poor creature in distress, would fol- 
low each other in quick succession, when, suddenly ceas- 
ing, an outburst of glorious melody would complete the 
strange series. Then, having regained his perch upon the 
topmost branch, the restless bird would remain quiet for 
a moment, when, with the same awkward, crooked flight, 
he would repeat the same series of strange and sweet notes, 
with some little variation of the uncouth sounds he se- 
lected for imitation. 

While I listened, wondering what next would greet 
my ears, I was surprised, even startled, by hearing the 
same strange sounds repeated, but at some distance off. 
Another chat, farther down the path, was singing in the 
same strange way — another it must be, for the one first 
1 



146 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

heard is still in sight on the same locust-tree, flitting care- 
lessly about and apparently silent. Curious to hear the 
new-comer, I passed on, when the sounds were heard in 
the opposite direction. I retraced my steps, and now the 
strange medley came from the low bushes about me, and, 
while looking carefully for the unseen chat that seemed 
so near, there came floating down to me from the tall 
locust's topmost branch the same series of odd sounds and 
sweet warblings. The truth was now clear : the one bird 
had uttered every sound I had heard, and by his ventrilo- 
quism had for the time completely deceived me. My 
study of this habit and its use now commenced, and for 
long w T eeks I watched him, to test in every way his ability 
to mislead one by the exercise of this peculiar power. 
On the 13th of the month, a second chat appeared, and the 
two— for the new-comer was a female — quickly selected 
a suitable spot in a tangled mass of blackberry briers at 
the foot of the locust-tree, and built a commodious but 
roughly constructed nest. While his mate was sitting, the 
male chat seemed more animated than ever, and, jealous 
of every intruder, he " threw his voice " in every direction 
other than toward the nest whenever any one came too 
near. On concealing myself and getting very close, I 
found, by watching for an hour or more at a time, that 
when undisturbed they uttered fewer cries of other crea- 
tures, and seldom exercised their ventriloquial powers. 
Their song was varied and at times grand, but usually 
the cheerful notes were so intermingled with hollow, se- 
pulchral tones, not of an imitative character, as to render 
the entire utterance far from pleasing. I never could so 
startle the bird that it would simply give a quick chirp 
of alarm and fly off. However suddenly I appeared from 
my concealment, there was an equally quick uttering of 
notes of distress such as I have described, coming from, 



CHATS AND WRENS. 147 

it seemed, a point several yards distant. Vary my exper- 
iments as I would, it mattered not : the bird was thor- 
oughly conscious of its ventriloquial power, and trusted 
far more to it than to flight to avoid and mislead any 
intruder. 

How came this bird to possess so unusual a power ? 
This I shall leave for others to determine, with this one 
suggestion : having closely observed a pair of these birds 
during the entire summer, I discovered that the habit is 
eminently useful to them, and is, I think, possessed by 
the male only, though upon this point I am not positively 
certain. 

When it is recollected that many of our birds — nota- 
bly the mocking-bird and cat-bird — mimic not only the 
notes of other songsters, but sounds of almost every de- 
scription, and that perhaps all gregarious birds post senti- 
nels to sound alarm on the approach of an enemy, it is 
evident that all the vocal powers of birds are not brought 
into play simply for their own satisfaction or for that of 
their mates ; for there is a wide difference between a 
bird's song and its ordinary chirping and twittering. 
During the lapse of ages they have learned, through ex- 
perience, something of the laws of sound, and they know 
fully as well as man does that certain notes can be heard 
at a greater distance than others. This is shown by the 
fact that birds, when giving an alarm-cry, utter the note 
with a penetrating shrillness, not common in any of their 
ordinary chirps or song. This knowledge of one of the 
properties of sound, simple as it is, is the starting-point 
in the acquirement of the power of mimicry, which is 
the intermediate stage between ordinary vocal utterances, 
including songs, and that ventriloquial power w T hich we 
have seen is possessed in great perfection by the chat. 

Now, as this bird imitates very many sounds, it seems 



148 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

clear that the simple power of mimicry must have been 
first gained, and that the ventriloquial power, or the 
power to repeat a sound so as to make it seem as if it 
were uttered somewhere else, was a subsequent acquisition. 
Such an addition to the power of mimicking other birds 
and the cries of small mammals would at once prove 
advantageous in misleading a pursuing enemy, as, for 
instance, a small hawk ; and the chat would not be slow 
to learn this, and to profit by the knowledge. In this 
way a new habit readily becomes characteristic of a spe- 
cies, first locally, and then throughout the entire extent 
of its haunts. 

A word in conclusion concerning the vocal powers 
of the chat. While it is true that these birds sing a good 
deal by day, yet it is not until after sunset and during 
the night, especially if there be a moon, that they are 
merriest ; and a more joyous strain never came from the 
bobolink than that which is then uttered by the chats. 
But, alas ! this melody is so often spoiled by a comming- 
ling of mournful sounds, that it is not surprising the 
Indians should have called them the "ghost-birds." 

About the middle of June the young birds had left 
the nest, though they still continued with the parent 
birds, and were fed by them. From this time until 
August, when both old and young left the neighborhood, 
I failed to detect any attempt even at singing on the part 
of the young ; and the more marked features of the song 
of the parent birds were but seldom heard after the young 
had obtained a sufficient flight-power to insure their 
safety. This would seem to lead to the inference that 
both the mimicry and the ventriloquism were exercised 
by the male for the purpose of securing safety to the 
young and to the female while upon her nest ; as the 
occasional exhibitions of song on his arrival in spring 



CHATS AND WEENS. 149 

were, I suppose, given at first for his own satisfaction, 
and afterward, when the females had arrived, these tests 
of his power were intended for their gratification. 

Let us now consider a very different bird — one not 
common in New Jersey, or, at least, very " local " in its 
distribution. 

About the middle of July, when most birds had long 
finished their nesting-labors, a pair of Bewick's wrens 
appeared in and about one of my out-buildings, and, in 
a day or two, having fixed upon a suitable spot, began 
to build their nest. As they were not at this time at 
all timid, I had abundant opportunities of watching them 
while so employed, and I must admit that there was 
nothing poetical in their modus operandi. After the 
first few strands of long, tape-like grass had been arranged 
upon a beam, the birds came to the spot together, each 
carrying a blade of grass or other equally flexible material. 
The female then sat in the unfinished nest, arranging the 
materials, while her mate brought others, some of which 
he apparently wound loosely about her. This continued 
until the foundation and sides were completed. "When 
finishing off the nest the female remained in and about 
it, while her mate was in quest of such soft materials as 
he could find. These were simply laid in the bottom of 
the nest, and received no special attention until a consid- 
erable quantity had been piled up, when the female bur- 
rowed into it, and, as I judged, kept turning round and 
round in it, until she had succeeded in making a com- 
paratively smooth depression in it, just fitted to her body. 
The larger strands on the outside, which had heretofore 
appeared of no use, were now rudely twisted into the 
sides of the nest and carried up until they formed a sort 
of arch, scarcely close enough to form a roof, or to make 
of the entire structure a globular nest, like that of the 



150 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

marsh-wren. In three days the work was completed, 
and was not better than any child could have made with 
the same material, wrapping, winding, and fitting them 
over his fist. Not one particle of ingenuity was displayed 
at any time. On the fourth day the first egg was laid, 
and on this day a cat succeeded in catching the male 
bird. As the female did not seem to miss him very 
much, and as it was this mishap that made the subsequent 
study of the nest and female bird possible, I did not ob- 
ject to the interference. The widowed wren wandered 
about quite as usual, constantly uttering a very cheery 
chirp, and gathering up a goodly quantity of insects 
every day. One egg was laid each day, until four had 
been deposited, when she commenced sitting. The fourth 
egg was pure white, the others of the usual color and 
markings. An interesting physiological question here 
arises which may be briefly referred to. This species of 
wren usually lays from seven to nine eggs, and hatches 
them all. Did, in this case of the widowed wren, the 
influence of the male only reach to the third or possibly 
the fourth egg ? Of the four eggs laid, the last did not 
hatch, and I judged from its contents that the yolk had 
been imperfect. Again, did the death of the male bird 
indirectly cause the shell of the fourth egg laid to be 
wholly colorless ? The season was too far advanced to 
make any additional observations, and I may add further- 
more that this is the only instance I ever knew of a bird 
continuing to sit after the death of her mate. 

After the young wrens were but a day old, the parent 
bird was seldom seen except for a moment at a time, 
when she would dart into the outbuilding through a knot- 
hole in one of the weather-boards, with a supply of food 
for her young. Then off she would go again, usually to 
the low roof of an adjoining building, and there would 



CHATS AND WEENS. 151 

chirp most shrilly if any one happened to be near, flutter- 
ing the while in a most distressed manner, as though de- 
termined to make those who might be passing believe 
that she had a nest up on the roof, or anywhere, except in 
the spot where it really was. This habit was so marked 
as to attract the attention of the members of my family ; 
and, if the out-building — a work-shop which was continu- 
ally visited during the day — happened to have any person 
in it when she arrived with food for her young, she would 
dart back as rapidly as she came in, and go through her 
accustomed antics on an adjoining building, while still 
retaining the food. By the middle of August, the young, 
although but scantily feathered, had left the nest, and in 
a day or two, old and young departed from the neighbor- 
hood. 

The song of the Bewick's wren is very fine and more 
melodious than that of the common house-wren. There 
is not in it, however, or in any of the various utterances 
of the female, any trace of mimicry or ventriloquism, and 
when I saw the anxious wren labor with both voice and 
body, and with all her might, to make her supposed ene- 
mies believe her painfully acted and harshly uttered lie, 
I could not but recall the advantage of the chat, in being 
able to remain comfortably at home, and send his voice 
on an errand, whenever and wherever it seemed neces- 
sary. 

With reference to this wren's nest, it may be said that 
this species usually builds a very commodious and neat 
structure in a concealed spot, and not, as in this case, on 
the top of a window-frame, in full view, like a peewee's. 
It was really an instance of what is often seen in nest- 
building, carelessness and laziness on the part of the 
builders. In my studies of birds' nests, I have found ex- 
posed positions chosen, because the twigs and branches 



152 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

grew in such a manner as to lessen the labor of building. 
Thus we see that, while some birds are " smart/ 5 others 
are less so, and that not a few have their weaknesses, just 
as is so often the case in man. All of which, I think, is 
a strong argument in favor of the theory that the mental 
powers of birds are identical with those of man, differing 
only in degree. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE CAROLINA WRKS" : A YEAH OF ITS LIFE. 

Early in the morning of September 1, 1882, as I was 
passing near the stable, my attention was called to the 
shrill notes of an excited little bird that, darting from the 
building, alighted on the fence near by and screamed 
Jimmee, Jimmee, Jimmee, so loudly, that every James in 
the township should have hastened thither. Xo response 
came, and again the call, a clear, penetrating whistle, was 
repeated. This continued at brief intervals for two or 
three minutes, and then, as quickly as it came, the bird 
flew back to the stable, entering through a knot-hole in a 
weather-board with such rapidity of movement that I 
could but marvel at its dexterity. 

Half an hour later I saw this same bird again, coming 
from the stable through the same knot-hole, and this time 
it sang as loudly, impatiently, and frequently as before, 
but the notes were different. It said, or seemed to say, 
tsau-re-ta, tsau-ve-ta, tsau-re-ta. Had I not seen the 
bird I should have recognized it by a peculiarity in its 
song, which was never wanting, whatever might be the 
particular notes it uttered. My attention being called to 
this little bird — the Carolina wren (or mocking wren of 
authors) — I determined forthwith to study its habits as 
opportunity presented, for the little that I found recorded 
of it is far from satisfactory. 

What might be the attraction in the stable was my 



154: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

first object to determine, for I did not suppose it had a 
nest so late in the season, and I had not noticed the bird 
particularly during the summer months, although I knew 
they were in the neighborhood. A protracted search 
failed, indeed, in finding any nest ; but while I was wan- 
dering about I was surprised to see the wren enter the 
building and proceed immediately to search for spiders, 
which hitherto were abundant in every nook and cor- 
ner, but now were comparatively scarce. Once the bird 
alighted upon the back of a horse standing in its stall, and 
while there quietly preened its feathers, as much as a 
wren ever deigns to do this, and then, with a shrill chirp 
that startled the animal, away it flew in search of more 
spiders. 

Late in the afternoon of the same day I again saw the 
wren enter the stable and pass directly through the mow- 
hole to the hay-loft overhead. I followed and found 
that the bird had taken possession of a barn-swallow's 
nest, and here it was keeping bachelor's hall. The nest 
was placed against a rafter, near the peak of the roof, 
and was quite inaccessible to cats. This probably the 
wren did not consider. It is a sly cat that ever catches 
a wren napping. The bird did not like my discovering 
his hiding-place, or at least was annoyed by my inquisi- 
tivoness. It circled about me several times, snapping its 
beak I thought, and chirped an unusually emphatic tsip, 
which I took to be the wrennish for " damn." 

All through the mellow September days, early and 
late, the clear notes of this wren were to be heard, and 
through October, and long after every summer songster 
had departed, I heard them daily and many times a day. 

During the autumn there was little to note with re- 
gard to the bird's habits. The insects in the stable and 
outbuildings afforded it a sufficient food supply, but dur- 



THE CAROLINA WREN 155 

ing exceptionally warm and sunny days it made frequent 
visits to a wooded slope near by, and there, among the 
giant oaks and chestnuts, it seemed more lively and full 
of song than when nearer home. 

A few words with reference to the character of its 
song. Every utterance is sharply defined by a peculiar- 
ity that belongs only to this bird. I think I should know 
the bird by its voice wherever I might hear it. 

Again, while the bird has a great variety of notes, I 
believe I have never heard it mingle these various utter- 
ances. It may chance to whistle jimmee or tsau-re-ta or 
phoe-do, but it never follows one with the other. It is 
in all cases a repetition of the notes it first utters. Thus 
I once recorded its song as uttered during ten minutes. 
Its notes then were phoedo, phoe-do, phoe-do phee ! with 
a rest of some five to ten seconds — then repeated ; and 
this continued without any variation until the notes as 
here given had been uttered sixty-four times. As the 
bird was about commencing the sixty-fifth repetition it 
was frightened and flew off. A half hour later the bird 
took up its position on a hop-vine pole and sang the 
notes represented by the syllables tsau-re-ta forty-seven 
times, with intervals of about five seconds between each 
utterance. 

I find it very generally stated that this wren is a 
"mocker," imitating many of our common songsters. 
Evidences of this have never come under my notice. 
Carefully as I have listened to this wren for a year, I have 
never heard a note that I should consider as not its own, 
and not borrowed. It is not safe, however, to conclude 
that it does not mimic other birds, because the one I have 
studied failed to do so. One's observations must cover a 
wider range of territory, and extend over many years, be- 
fore it is safe to be positive in the matter of the habits 



156 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of birds. Only recently I read a most painful account of 
the many dangers to which birds nesting in the valley of 
the Hudson River are exposed. According to the writer 
but very few broods are successfully reared. Happily, 
here in the Delaware Valley the birds are more fortunate, 
and a failure is the exception, not the rule. So, too, it 
may be with the songs of birds. My Carolina wrens do 
not mimic, but perhaps my neighbor's do. 

At the onset of winter, which in 1882 was late in 
November, the wren seemed unusually active, and sang 
even more frequently than during the sunny days of 
early autumn. At this time the characteristic tyrannical 
temper of the wren tribe showed itself. My wren had 
pre-empted the immediate vicinity of the stable, barn, 
and other out-buildings, and woe betide any trespasser ; 
snow-birds, sparrows, titmice, and even blue-jays were 
promptly warned off by the little tyrant. If they ques- 
tioned his authority it was only to their sorrow. So it 
proved the long winter through. No other birds came 
near to stay. Spider-hunting, fighting, and singing oc- 
cupied all its moments, and, I am told, it was often heard 
to whistle late in the night. Probably it was dreaming, 
which is not to be wondered at, considering the activity 
of the bird's brain when awake. 

Thus for six months this bird lived quite alone. It 
certainly never wandered far at any one time. It was 
seen at too short intervals for this. But if lonely it was 
not morose, and to all appearance throve admirably from 
September to March. 

From March to September it lived another life. As 
early as the 7th it appeared upon the scene with a com- 
panion. The two were very noisy and demonstrative. 
I could not detect much evidence of affection, and at 
times their actions were strongly suggestive of quarreling. 



THE CAROLINA WEEK. 157 

This, however, did not last long. In the coarse of a week 
they had settled all their little differences, and hunted 
the spiders in the out-buildings, and early insects every- 
where, in company. The song of the male bird was now 
more varied and frequent, yet never with a trace of 
mimicry of the notes of other birds. Its song in volume 
exceeded even the clear whistle of the cardinal grosbeak, 
and could be heard distinctly for half a mile during a 
still morning. 

March 18th was a pleasant, spring-like day, and an 
early Maryland yellow-throat was singing merrily. This 
drew me out of doors, and I noticed directly that the 
Carolina wrens had commenced nest-building. Both birds 
were busy carrying long grass, strips of inner bark of 
shrubs, and an odd thread or two that were found near 
by. One bird examined the clothes-line carefully, but 
could not succeed in unraveling any portion. 

Following the wrens, I found they had located on the 
upper surface of one of the plates of the frame of the 
barn. The nest was directly under the roof, and quite 
filled the space between the upper surface of the plate 
and the shingles, about six inches. The nest, when com- 
pleted except the lining, was quite a foot in length. It 
was, in fact, a mere shapeless mass of loose material. 
Into this the female wren burrowed and remained most 
of the time, while the male bird brought softer fibers and 
chicken feathers. With these the cavity was lined and 
the nest completed. 

March 24th an egg was laid, and another each day 
until the 29th, when the hen commenced sitting. Dur- 
ing the days that followed, the male bird was very active 
in supplying his mate with food, and took his turn in 
caring for the eggs, but evidently under protest ; this I 
conclude from the super-merry songs he uttered on being 



158 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

relieved. Indeed it is a marvel to me that even a female 
wren can sit still. They have such nervous tempera- 
ments that an entire change of nidification, whereby solar 
heat could be depended upon, would, no doubt, be hailed 
by them with joy. 

Five young birds were hatched April 9th. When twen- 
ty days old they were able to fly, and had left the nest and 
apparently their parents. I saw them, evidently shifting 
for themselves, two days later, when they disappeared. 
May 14th the old birds were again building a nest, this 
time in another building, but in a similar position. The 
structure was identical in shape and size, but differed in 
being largely lined with snake-skins. It was completed 
by May 20th, and a week later seven eggs had been laid, 
and June 7th six eggs were hatched. The young were 
on the wing July 1st. July 15th a third nest was found 
nearly completed. Five eggs were laid by the 23d, and 
on August 8th the young birds of the third brood had 
appeared. These could fly by the 26th of the month, 
and had left the nest and the neighborhood by the 30th. 

It is now a few days more than a year since my atten- 
tion was particularly called to the single Carolina wren 
that frequented the stable. During the past twelve 
months it was closely watched, and every habit noted. 
When I was absent others observed it for me, and nothing 
of importance escaped attention. While I am writing 
these concluding lines, I can hear the bird singing merrily 
as it sits upon the top of the hop-vine pole, of late its 
favorite perch. While listening to its song it is a proper 
time to sum up the results of what I have seen and heard. 
As a songster it ranks very high and its utterances are 
all original. As a spider-hunter it is as active as any of 
the family of wrens. As a courageous foe of the English 
sparrows it is a blessing to the community. 



CHAPTEK XVIIL 

DO SWALLOWS HEBEKNATE ? 

In the year 1750, Peter Kalm, the Swedish naturalist, 
made the following entry in his journal, during a brief 
sojourn in Southern New Jersey : " I observed the barn- 
swallows for the first time on the 10th of April [new 
style] ; the next day in the morning, I saw great numbers 
of them sitting on posts and planks, and they were as wet 
as if they had been just come out of the sea." On a sub- 
sequent page, he remarks : " The people differed here in 
their opinions about the abode of swallows in winter ; 
most of the Swedes thought that they lay at the bottom 
of the sea ; some, with the English and the French in 
Canada, thought that they migrate to the southward in 
autumn, and return in spring. I have likewise been 
credibly informed in Albany that they have been found 
sleeping in deep holes and clefts of rocks during winter." 
Furthermore, it is well to say that John Reinhold Forster, 
the accomplished translator of Kalm's travels, adds, in a 
foot-note, a series of well-attested instances of swallows 
having been found hibernating in the mud at the bottoms 
of lakes: among these instances he mentions Dr. Wal- 
lerius, a celebrated Swedish chemist, who affirmed that he 
had " seen more than once, swallows assembling on a reed, 
till they were all immersed and went to the bottom ; this 
being preceded by a dirge of a quarter of an hour's 
length." Commenting upon the above and like instances, 



160 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Mr. Forster is led to conclude that in countries as cold as 
Sweden " swallows immerse in the sea, in lakes and rivers, 
and remain in a torpid state, under ice, during winter ; " 
and that some English swallows, and some in Germany, 
" retire into clefts and holes in rocks," while in Spain, 
Italy, and France, that they are strictly migratory birds. 

That our American swallows are strictly migratory 
birds, I have no doubt ; and it would never have occurred 
to me to consider the subject of their hibernation other 
than a mere fancy, had not an excellent American orni- 
thologist stated recently that this alleged submarine hiber- 
nation was physically and physiologically feasible. This 
assertion is too hasty, and is not warranted by known laws 
of life. Having been made, however, and a semi-assent 
to the alleged habit of hibernation being thus given by 
an authority in ornithological science, it behooves the 
naturalist to determine how great an amount of truth 
there is in the statements, so frequently and forcibly made, 
of the persons claiming to have witnessed actions on the 
part of swallows, indicative of hibernation commenced, 
and of the discovery of swallows in conditions indicative 
of hibernation in progress. 

Believing this supposed habit to be really a miscon- 
ception of movements on the part of swallows, to be lik- 
ened in some measure to the rolling habit of the mythical 
hoop-snake, I have taken every available opportunity, 
since 1878, to observe the movements of the several spe- 
cies of swallows that frequent my neighborhood, with 
the hope of determining what habits obtained among 
them that might possibly have given rise to the world- 
wide impression that swallows not only hibernate but 
even deliberately bury themselves in mud at the bottoms 
of lakes and rivers. 

The species of swallow that I have had opportunity 






DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 161 

of carefully studying for the past three years are the bank- 
swallow, the cliff-swallow, the barn-swallow, and lastly the 
swallow-like swift, universally known as the chimney- 
swallow. 

I do not propose to give here an extended account of 
the habits of these four species of well-known birds, but 
to relate the occurrences that I have witnessed, which 
seemed to bear upon the question. These birds I will 
treat of in the order named. 

Probably the most abundant of all our swallows is that 
known as the bank-swallow, a name derived from the habit 
of building its nest in the steep faces of earth-banks, when 
they are of such composition or structure that these birds 
can safely burrow into them to a depth of several feet. 
I say " safely,' 5 for if the earth be too yielding, and the 
sides liable to crumble, then the bank will be abandoned. 
In every instance that has come under my notice the cho- 
sen banks or escarpments occupied by a colony of bank- 
swallows had a southern exposure, and directly fronting 
it, and never so far distant as to be out of sight, there 
was either a pond, a creek, or the river itself. Now this 
association of water and the colonies of bank-swallows is 
important. 

Least susceptible to changes of weather, and depend- 
ent upon food more than temperature, the bank-swal- 
low is the earliest of the family to appear in spring, and 
the last to disappear late in autumn. The alleged hiber- 
nation is a habit that concerns us only at such times of the 
year — in early spring, when they leave their muddy 
couches after prolonged slumber, and in autumn when 
they seek these submarine retreats. 

Like all, or nearly all, migratory birds, the bank-swal- 
lows return in early spring to their haunts of the preced- 
ing summer. When I have first noted their return, often 



162 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

as early as the 10th of March, they were either flying to 
and fro over the water in front of the site of their nests 
of last year, or flying in and out of the old burrows, in- 
specting their condition, but not preparing for the coming 
duties of incubation. Thus early in the spring, their flight 
is not as continued as it is a month later. Apparently they 
have not recovered from the fatigue of their migratorial 
journey, and they rest in small companies, not upon trees, 
but, I may say, exclusively either at the openings of the 
subterranean nests, or upon sticks, dead trees, and vegeta- 
tion projecting from the water. Now add the very im- 
portant fact that the amount of food to be found by these 
swallows, thus early in the season, is very limited — being 
confined to a few hardy insects that are then astir if the 
sun is shining — and it becomes evident that, from an insuf- 
ficient supply of food, their vigorous flight power of mid- 
summer will be visibly affected. 

Add to this the depressing influences of cold rain- 
storms, which they do not endeavor to avoid, and we 
have causes sufficient to explain the well-attested fact 
that these swallows are at this time of the year often to 
be seen, as Kalm described those he saw in 1750, " as 
wet as if they had been just come out of the sea." 

Let me now mention the details of an incident of this 
kind. On the 17th of March, 1878, the weather for a 
week previously having been fairly pleasant for the time 
of year, a few swallows were seen ; it rained very hard 
until about noon, when it cleared suddenly, the wind 
shifting to the northwest. I started out for a short ram- 
ble in search of Indian relics, and, passing by the bluff 
that for years had been frequented by bank-swallows, I 
was attracted by the incessant but feeble twitterings of 
numbers of these birds ; none were to be seen. I looked 
for them for some time, and finally found a hundred or 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 163 

more sitting upon the top rail of a section of half-sub- 
merged fence in the marshy meadow facing the cliff Ap- 
proaching as near as I could, I found them unable, or, at 
least, indisposed to fly ; and finally, getting to them, 
found them thoroughly soaked, and readily taken by the 
hand. Those that endeavored to escape fell into the 
water, and were lost in the dead bulrushes that projected 
above its surface. I presume that many were drowned. 
My explanation of the occurrence is this : they were in- 
sect hunting when the storm commenced, and, taking 
refuge upon the fence, they were awaiting the slow pro- 
cess of drying of feathers, by exposure to the wind and 
the fitful sunshine. This accomplished they would have 
been themselves again. On the other hand, had I not 
seen these swallows previously, there was every reason to 
lead me to suppose that they had suddenly appeared 
from some near-at-hand hiding-place, where they had 
been quietly at rest during the winter just closed ; and 
had any one following in my footsteps found the poor 
struggling birds that I had caused to fall into the water, 
then natural, indeed, would it have been to suppose that 
from the water itself had emerged these chilled and help- 
less birds at the first breath of spring ! 

jNow, on the 19th of March, 1880, there was a cold 
storm, with both snow and rain. Two days previously I 
had seen two bank - swallows. Thinking that others 
might be about, and desirious of seeing them during a 
rain, I went to the cliff near my house, but saw nothing 
of them. Lingering about the place for some time, I 
finally saw three emerge from holes in the cliff, and, after 
fluttering about a short time (the rain had then stopped), 
they alighted on a stake projecting from the water, where 
they remained fully ten minutes. The rain commencing 
again to fall, one flew away, and went, I think, to the 



164 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



cliff ; the others flew to the same fence, where I had seen 
scores of them two years before, and sat near together 
facing the wind, just as pigeons will arrange themselves 
on the peak of the roof of a barn during a rain-storm in 
summer. 

In this case, these two swallows certainly became 
thoroughly wetted, and had they been found later, when 
the storm was over, would doubtless have presented the 
appearance of being " as wet as if they had been just 
come out of the sea." 

How easy it is to be misled by appearances in this 
matter of studying bird-life ! Had I not known that 
swallows had been flying for days before I found these 
wet, bedraggled, storm-beaten birds, I could fairly have 
claimed that my own experience fully confirmed the 
opinions of others, that swallows not only migrate, but 
remain in mud-encased beds at the bottoms of our ponds, 
creeks, and rivers ; but until swallows are first heard sing- 
ing their farewell dirge, as Dr. Wallerius describes, then 
seen to sink into the mud, and are then promptly resur- 
rected, before a cloud of witnesses, it will be safe to as- 
sert that what many have seen is susceptible of another 
explanation than voluntary submergence in the mud of 
our water-courses. Furthermore, it can be safely asserted, 
I think, that bank-swallows return year after year to their 
haunts of previous summers. A New York, or Con- 
necticut, or Massachusetts colony of these birds, will not 
reach its haunt of last summer as early as will the New 
Jersey colonies reach theirs. 

Although the recent observations of Mr. Scott at 
Princeton, New Jersey, conclusively show that migration 
customarily takes place at any night when it is moon- 
light, it does not necessarily show that migration at night 
is the common habit of all birds that migrate. Indeed, 









DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE 7 165 

it is impossible to believe that, however brilliant the 
moonlight may be, any bird could distinguish, at the ele- 
vation of a mile or more, the limited area of its former 
summer haunts, the particular thicket in which it nested 
the foregoing summer ; or, in the case of swallows, the 
little bluff wherein a colony had had their subterranean 
summer homes. The most that can be claimed is their 
recognition of the particular river valley wherein they 
have been accustomed to spend the summer. Granting 
this, if they migrated at night, then it is early in the 
morning after their arrival that we should expect to see 
them resting in scattered numbers after their journey ; 
and when thus wearied from a protracted flight, and 
damped with the dews that have bathed surrounding 
Nature, they might well present the appearance of hav- 
ing arisen from the waters beneath, rather than fallen 
from the clouds above. 

Continuing our consideration of these bank-swallows, 
let us now pass to the time of their annual disappearance, 
late in autumn, or at the onset of winter. Two condi- 
tions cause the change of habitation, or, at least, the dis- 
appearance from their summer haunts — a much lower 
temperature, and absence of insects, their only food. 
Xow, severe frosts often occur in October, or they may 
be delayed until November, but this alone does not de- 
cide the movements of the swallows ; for often they have 
wholly disappeared before October, and then a year may 
pass, with flitting swallows skimming o'er the lea, un- 
daunted by the chill Xovember fogs. The supposed 
regularity of their comings and goings is not applicable 
to their New Jersey haunts, however it may be in more 
northern localities. 

What, therefore, I have seen of their movements in 
autumn that has possible bearing upon alleged hiberna- 



166 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

tion is, first, the effect of age. Now, it is as evident as 
that birds grow old, that, in due course of time, these mi- 
gratory swallows will reach that condition of decrepitude 
when they can make their migratory journey from South 
to North, or vice versa, for the last time. In such case, 
there must necessarily be a large number that are left 
behind, when the main body depart each year, unless it can 
be shown that these aged birds die in the course of the sum- 
mer at the North, or during their winter sojourn in the 
South. Both statements are true. The result of a sum- 
mer's study of a colony of bank-swallows revealed the fact 
that a number of old unpaired swallows flitted feebly 
about the bluff, but never appeared to wander far from it. 
They were often seen sitting at the openings of the nests 
in the cliff, and were taken for young birds. They were 
not fed by old birds having young to look after, and 
fared scantily on such insects as they caught by their own 
exertions. Early in August I found many lying dead, 
both in the burrowings and at the foot of the cliff. Ex- 
amination proved that they all were old birds. In au- 
tumn, about October 1st, the main body of the colony 
largely frequent the weedy marshes, and seem to be for- 
ever on the wing, insect-catching, as they move in an 
endless labyrinth of curves over the quiet waters. I 
have seen thousands of them thus engaged, far from their 
nesting haunts. Occasionally they would alight upon 
tall reeds and objects projecting above the water, and 
twitter without ceasing. Then, as by a signal, these 
thousands would rise together from their resting places, 
and mounting to an unusal elevation fly away, to return 
no more that season. 

These birds were associated colonies on their southern 
migration ; but there were still left a few of those who 
had here spent a joyous, gleesome summer. The lame, 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE* 167 

the weak, the blind, and the unburied dead of that avian 
city still remained ; and what a mournful spectacle they 
offered ! painfully so in themselves, and the more impres- 
sive when the thoughtless, glittering throng of a few 
days past was vividly recalled. 

Cheered for the time by the mellow sunlight that 
beamed upon them, the aged, half -helpless swallows, whose 
wings still responded to the will languidly, chased the few 
remaining insects flitting over the weedy waters. Others, 
venturing less far, caught, with what skill they could com- 
mand, the chilled and drooping flies that sought refuge 
from the cold winds in these safe, snug harbors in the 
cliff. Indeed, this shelter-seeking flight of insect-life, that 
now teems about these deserted nests of the departed 
swallows, proves a veritable godsend to those poor birds 
that, from whatsoever cause, are fated to remain, if it be 
a blessing to prolong a joyless existence during a few brief 
weeks in autumn. But the importance of this sad phase 
of swallow-life as bearing upon our subject remains to be 
stated. Notwithstanding their weakness, the desire or 
instinct to migrate still remains, and when pressed more 
than usual by sudden accession of cold, or by scarcity of 
food, numbers of those that remain will collect as of yore, 
on the rushes and reeds about the water, and often com- 
mence their protracted flight toward their winter haunts. 
Many straggling swallows doubtless wander miles before 
Anally succumbing to the weakness of age, though they 
never wander far from water, but migrate in their accus- 

, tomed course, which is always coastwise, down a river 
valley. When their course is finished they are found 
in the track of the hardy multitude that have passed 
successfully onward. Here, yielding to the severity of 

, the increasing cold, they find watery graves beneath the 
nodding plumes of the russet grasses over which, in days 



/ 



» 



16S RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

gone by, they had flitted without fatigue, thoughtless of 
the morrow. 

Such swallows I have seen, year after year, and it was 
to them that Dr. Wallerius referred when he said that they 
assembled on a reed " till they were all immersed, and 
went to the bottom ; this being preceded by a dirge of a 
quarter of an hour's length." 

Intelligible, therefore, as I consider the movements of 
swallows to be, in so far as these might give the impression 
of hibernation beneath the water, it is not by the same 
observations that I have here recorded that the asserted 
finding of torpid swallows during the winter, encased in 
mud, can be explained. 

The mere finding of swallows in the mud is of itself 
nothing strange, although the chances of their escaping 
the attacks of the turtles and carnivorous fishes is very 
small ; but to find them alive, in such positions^ is a dif- 
ferent matter, and at once recalls the probability of the 
assertion that I have questioned, that it is physically and 
physiologically feasible for swallows to lie dormant under 
water. If so, some great constitutional change must take 
place, for swallows, throughout the summer, are readily 
drowned, if held for even a minute under water ; and, if 
their plumage is well soaked by repeated immersions, they 
are helpless until thoroughly dry again. The structure 
of their feathers, furthermore, is wholly unlike that of 
aquatic birds, and therefore they can not resist the per- 
vading action of the water, as do the oily, close-set feath- 
ers of the ducks and divers. 

Again, if torpid swallows are encased in mud, be- 
neath a considerable depth of water, by what means can 
the reviving influences of returning spring reach them ? 
Whether in mid-winter or in genial April days, the mud 
at the bottoms of our ponds is of nearly uniform temper- 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE! 169 

ature, and certainly does not vary so much as to start, by 
its added warmth, the life-pulses of swallows that for five 
or six long months have ceased to beat ; and why should 
these unfortunates remain thus beneath chilled and often 
ice-locked waters, when, in the mellow sunshine above, 
other and wiser swallows of their kind flit and twitter as 
of yore, having happily chosen migration rather than 
submergence ? 

But the testimony on this point is too explicit to war- 
rant the belief that these witnesses could have been in 
error. To show how readily people can be mistaken, let 
me state a case : 

A. B. has testified on oath as follows : " Early in 
April, 1836, as I was passing on foot down the Borden- 
town road, near the drawbridge, I heard a loud hissing in 
the bushes at my left, and, turning my head, saw a large, 
checkered, black and white snake. It held its head well 
up, and darted its tongue at me. I was a good deal 
frightened and turned and ran, as I had heard of hoop- 
snakes, and found I was chased by this snake and that it 
was one. Luckily, I was running down hill, and covered 
the ground pretty lively. Near the bridge, I jumped 
behind a cedar-tree, and the snake passed me. It had its 
tail in its mouth, and rolled along like a child's hoop, 
only a great deal faster. It turned off at the creek, and 
rolled into Orosswicks Creek, and then uncoiled, and 
swam like any other snake." 

Now, in this statement, made in good faith by a con- 
scientious man, there is a curious admixture of truth and 
misconception. Mr. A. B. admits that he has heard of 
hoop-snakes, and, as they are reputed to be more deadly 
than veritable rattle-snakes or copper-heads, it is very 
natural that he should see, or simply think he sees, a 
snake take its tail in its mouth and roll, hoop-like, down 

8 



170 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

the sandy road. This impression is always the more 
vivid when the snake happens to take the same direction 
in which the poor frightened person may happen to flee. 
Now, if people are taught to expect to encounter any 
given form of dangerous animal, in any neighborhood, 
they are apt, when any creature having the similitude of 
this mythical foe to humanity is seen, to endow it with all 
direful attributes, and their distorted vision will convert 
into a horrible monstrosity, and detect impossible capers 
in a harmless and inoffensive creature. 

Now, I have taken the trouble to question a certain 
class of people concerning this hoop-snake, and I find it 
is firmly believed in by hundreds, who affirm that they, 
their parents, or some one of their friends had seen them, 
been chased by them, or had indirectly captured them, 
by suddenly darting behind a tree, when the snake would 
uncoil, and, striking its tail into the tree, would be held 
by it, and when in this position would be killed by the 
person pursued. 

Now, all of these statements are just as explicit as the 
finding of dormant swallows in the mud ; yet, one and all, 
they are absolutely false. If, therefore, the impression 
is made on the minds of the young people of any commu- 
nity that swallows hibernate in the mud, it will be diffi- 
cult to rid them of the idea that any swallow that may 
be found in, or even near water, is not indicative of the 
truth that swallows do really pass the winter in such a 
manner. Is this more unreasonable than that the belief 
in hoop-snakes should be so common, even among other- 
wise well-informed people ? If we can not explain this 
impression that swallows hibernate in mud, and beneath 
water too, in some such manner as I have endeavored to 
make plain, then our only alternative is to exclaim, in de- 
spair, " Lord ! Lord ! How this world is given to lying." 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE f 171 

Let ns turn now to a less abundant, but no less inter- 
esting species, the cliff-swallow. This bird, instead of 
burrowing into a bank, builds an elaborate nest of mud 
under the eaves of barns, along rocky ledges, and, in Xew 
Jersey more frequently than elsewhere, on the beams sup- 
porting the floors of bridges. Proximity to the water is 
desirable evidently, but is not an essential condition of 
the locality chosen for their nests. As in the case of the 
bank-swallow, these birds also live in large communities, 
and present much the same general features of swallow- 
life. 

The peculiarity of their nest, in being made of mud, 
of course necessitates frequent visits to water, whence 
they derive this material for their nests. Xow, unlike 
the bank-swallow, the cliff-swallow is a late arrival, and 
no sooner here, tired as he must be, than he commences 
the work of building a new nest or of repairing the old 
one. In either case it is absolutely necessary that he 
should dabble in the mud. Day in and day out, for a 
week or more, his whole time seems spent in mixing mor- 
tar by the water's side, and transporting it in little bits 
to the nest. He is wet and bedraggled much of the 
time ; and if a cold northeasterly rain sets in, as is so 
often the case during the first week in May, then these 
swallows are in a sorry plight indeed, and, suspending 
building operations, they huddle about in numbers, twit- 
tering mournfully, on the principle that misery loves 
company. Such storms even sometimes prove fatal to 
many of them, and they are more frequently found 
dead near their nests than are individuals of any other 
species. Find them, then, during a storm, or even notice 
them, for the first time, when they are sitting on the 
ground near the water, dripping wet at times, and the 
impression you will have will be that of Kalm, that they 



172 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

look " as if they had been just come out of the sea. 55 
This impression, too, is increased from the fact that there 
are no heralds of the northward-moving mass of swallows 
of this kind. One and all, they come together. Yes- 
terday, not one was to be seen ; to-day, the entire com- 
munity are settled in their old haunts, and ready for 
housekeeping. Their migrations are continued through 
the night, and either by starlight or moonlight, as the 
case may be, they are guided to their several haunts of 
the preceding summer. 

I am very positive that they arrive during the night, 
and I lay unusual emphasis on this fact because the ap- 
pearance of such a flight of swallows the morning follow- 
ing their arrival would be apt to give an impression of 
aquatic hibernation, if such an idea had ever been ex- 
pressed in your hearing. Not the entire colony will im- 
mediately seek the nests of the past summer, for there 
will be many young birds who have as yet not built 
nests, and there "will also be birds yet to choose their 
mates. Now, such birds will sit in long rows on tele- 
graph wires, on fences, and, if the water be near, be very 
sure that they will congregate about it. Thus congre- 
gated about a pond early in the morning, perhaps after a 
heavy dew, and yon can readily see that they w T ill be " as 
wet as if they had been just come ont of the sea ! " 

In the reference made by Kalm to swallows, he speci- 
fies the barn-swallow as being that which he saw on the 
10th of April (new style), 1750, in a wet, spiritless condi- 
tion, sitting on posts and planks. Now, in this case, we 
have a species of swallow that differs greatly in its habits 
from the preceding. While sociable, and willing that a 
neighbor should dwell near by, they are by no meixns 
gregarious ; and it is often observed that but a single nest 
will be in a building, however large it may be. Unlike 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE 7 173 

the bank- or cliff-swallows, they are quite contented to 
seek their food flitting over fields and about the build- 
ings wherein are placed their nests. They are not to be 
associated with water or its vicinity, any more than with 
the driest stretches of dusty fields. 

How, then, are we to explain the soaked appearance 
of those seen by Kalm, sitting on posts and planks ? I 
think the preceding sentence explains it. He saw these 
birds first on the 10th of April, and on the next day far 
greater numbers of them, sitting on posts and planks. 
They had but reached their destination — probably had 
just completed a protracted flight of hundreds of miles— 
and were seen early in the morning. Thoroughly fagged 
at the end of a long journey, and early in the day, when 
all else was dripping with the moisture of rain-like dew, 
would it not be strange indeed if these new-comers, 
like all animate and inanimate nature about them, 
were not " as wet as if they had been just come out of 
the sea"? 

Bat the barn-swallow asks no lengthy holiday on his 
arrival. He quickly recuperates, and the duties of the 
hour are squarely met. If, during the summer, his wan- 
derings are less about water than land, it is to the water 
that he goes first, when ready to construct his nest or re- 
pair the structure of last summer. By the water's edge, 
he carefully mixes the adhering mud that forms the ex- 
terior of his house. Here, we have a repetition of what I 
mentioned with reference to the cliff-swallows. Just at 
the time when the supposed mud-encased swallow should 
leave his submarine abode, and all bedraggled, wet and 
worn should be seen spreading himself in the sun, and 
drying out, in readiness for a summer's campaign— then 
do we really find the beautiful barn-swallows busy at the 
water's edge, and often well wet through; but, instead 



174 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of having lately emerged from the water, they have liter- 
ally dropped from the clouds. 

But if, for many and good reasons, we set aside, as a 
misconception of the facts, the impression still retained by 
many, that swallows hibernate in the mud, at the bottoms 
of lakes and rivers, what have we to say of the more rea- 
sonable proposition that they hibernate, as do many ani- 
mals, in underground retreats, in clefts of the rocks and 
even in hollow trees ? Now, the one simple way to decide 
this matter is, to find them hibernating, as they are said 
to do. 

So far as my own experience extends, I have never 
found a swallow hibernating in any position, nor do I ever 
expect to ; and, furthermore, I believe nine tenths of all 
the accounts that are published of the discovery of the hi- 
bernating swallows could be readily explained as some- 
thing very different, if all the facts of the case could be 
ascertained. But when we come to study very closely the 
habits of a familiar bird, that to all but ornithologists is a 
veritable swallow, our common swift or "chimney-swal- 
low," then I am fairly staggered, and find myself saying 
beneath my breath, " After all ! " 

In conclusion, then, it behooves me to consider this 
common chimney-swallow very carefully and candidly, 
and determine how far certain occurrences that I have 
witessed are indicative of hibernation. 

In a large unused chimney of an old house built in 
1708, standing near my home, thousands of chimney- 
swallows annually congregate, arriving in April — or 
appearing then — and departing, well! I am not certain 
when. 

Now, this chimney has an internal surface of about four 
hundred and twenty-five square feet, and, allowing one 
square foot to each nest, will accommodate so many pairs 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERXATE? 175 

of swallows. But I find that not more than one third of 
the available space is utilized. At this rate, there would 
be one hundred and forty pairs of swallows occupying 
the chimney at one time. Now, this may seem like a fish 
story, but it is an inconsiderable fraction of the truth. I 
have carefully timed by my watch an unbroken line of 
entering and out-going swallows, and seen them in these 
processions steadily enter and reappear for five and a half 
minutes, without a break, each bird followed by another 
so closely that intervening spaces were scarcely discern- 
ible. The downward and upward series were of course 
different birds to a certain extent, and it is a fair estimate 
to say that fully one thousand swallows were making a 
nesting and roosting place of this one chimney at the one 
time. 

Not the least curious feature of these large colonies is 
the evident fact that but a small proportion of these birds 
are nesting at this time ; and we are lost in amazement 
when considering that the fragile eggs and tender fledg- 
lings should escape destruction, surrounded as they are by 
such a crowd of jostling, climbing, crawling, tireless swal- 
lows. Nor is it at all easy to reach any definite conclu- 
sion concerning the object of these non-nesting birds, in 
thus continuously through the day entering their roosting 
place — the chimney. 

Now, these particulars are mentioned in this connec- 
tion to show that many hundreds of these birds often 
roost in the one place, and must be very closely packed 
together when all are at home. For a portion of every 
twenty-four hours they are well able to withstand the de- 
pressing influences of a crowded condition, with certainly 
a minimum of fresh air to breathe. The same conditions 
would prove fatal to most other birds, if indeed not to all 
others. 



176 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

This feature of the summer life of these birds please 
bear in mind. 

Any time after the middle of September there is likely 
to be a change. A severe northeast storm coming, they 
are gone ! A week may pass, and not a swallow is to be 
seen. You may listen at the chimney holes, and not a 
swallow is to be heard. The sky is as birdless as in bleak 
December. But again the weather becomes warm ; our 
magnificent October days, are come. The mellowest sun- 
shine of all the year gilds the broad meadows and adds a 
glory to the scarlet maples ; and again scores of chimney- 
swallows, as before, are flitting all day long in the cloudless 
skies. Whence come these birds ? They are not so many, 
indeed, as were here before the biting northeast winds 
bade all our summer birds depart ; but far too many to 
consider them as mere stragglers. Indeed, they are too 
strong of wing to be thus looked upon. We felt, or 
might have felt, certain that the swallows had gone ; but 
with the returning cheery days these birds are again with 
us. Either they were closely stowed away during the 
storm, or they are more northern birds which, leaving 
their summer haunts beyond the track of the storm that 
visited us, had only reached us as they were moving south- 
ward after the storm had passed. This, I think, very 
likely is the truth of the matter ; but many circumstances 
strongly point to the former supposition — that of tempo- 
rary shelter during the storm. Here is an instance. On 
the 4th of October of the past year the weather with us 
was warm, the thermometer ranging from 65° to 85° Fahr. 
Throughout the morning there was a brisk shower, or series 
of showers ; but by 2 p. m. it had cleared, with a gentle 
wind from the north. It gradually grew colder, and by 
sunrise on the 5th the temperature had fallen to 40° Fahr., 
and the wind had increased in violence. All this day 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE* 177 

thousands of chimney-swallows and a few of other species 
were seen flying southward, keeping as -near to the ground 
as possible, just avoiding the tree-tops, and in open spaces 
often just clearing the ground. They were in dense flocks, 
and appeared to be driven helplessly before the cutting 
blasts of the north wind then prevailing. The weather 
moderated the next day, and on the 7th of the month there 
were very many sw x allows flying about just as usual ; they 
did not finally disappear before the 20th of October. 

Such flocks of swallows as I have mentioned are cer- 
tainly indicative of a voluntary or forced migration to a 
certain extent. "What becomes of such storm-driven colo- 
nies (and they are an annual occurrence) I cannot say ; 
but they are certainly indicative of the habit of migration 
obtaining among these birds, to a certain extent. On the 
other hand, what of the many swallows that remained for 
fully two weeks after the storm I have mentioned ? As 
bearing upon this point, the following is worthy of note : 
In December, 1879, I had occasion to have a wood-stove 
removed from a fireplace, and one for burning coal put 
in its place. The removed stove had not had a fire in it 
for nearly a year. On detaching the pipe, there were 
found seven swallows in one of the elbows, occupying 
the space between the angle and the damper. They were 
all perfectly well and comparatively vigorous. On being 
placed upon the floor of the room, they soon recovered 
their full senses, and, after a feeble flight about the room, 
passed quickly through an open window and were seen 
no more. The great bulk of the chimney-swallows appar- 
ently departed by the 25th of October of that year. I 
certainly saw none later ; yet fifty-five days after that 
date seven are found, in fine health and strength, snugly 
stowed away in a stove-pipe. It is fair to suppose that 
they had lived for this length of time without food. If 



178 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

so, have we any right to limit the length of time that they 
may thus remain in a semi-torpid or hibernating condi- 
tion ? To maintain that such a question is reasonable is 
not an attempt to carry water upon both shoulders ; for 
swallows' hibernation in sheltered places, surrounded by 
the atmosphere, is vastly different from lying in mud at 
the bottom of a lake or the ocean. In a second somewhat 
similar instance that has come to my knowledge, a num- 
ber of these birds were found in a hollow sycamore which 
was cut down in the month of February. These birds 
were dead when I saw them, and I was assured by the 
w T ood-cutter that they were stiff and cold when he took 
them from the tree. They were not frozen, however, 
and the appearance, on dissection, was such as to lead to 
the belief that they had died but very recently ; certainly 
before the tree was cut down, but not long previously. 
There was no decomposition ; some trace of fatty tissue, 
and the blood liquid ; the bowels and stomach empty, but 
moist, soft, and flexible. 

In this case, happening during a remarkably mild 
winter, that of 1879-80, it is possible that swallows might 
survive in such quarters, when a season of ordinary sever- 
ity would destroy them. 

It is claimed that we do not know where the winter 
haunts of these birds are ; if so, may it not be that, like 
the almost as abundant bats, these birds congregate in 
caves or hollow trees ? But if we grant this much, these 
hibernating places are not to be looked for in New Eng- 
land or the Middle States, but so far south as to be beyond 
the reach of the severest frosts of our winters. Certainly, 
did they hibernate with us, in the same manner as the 
bats, their hiding-places would have been discovered far 
oftener than even such instances as I have related have 
been noticed. As a thousand or more may be found in 






DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 179 

one chimney during summer, it is fair to presume that, 
in hibernating, equal numbers would then also be congre- 
gated. No such swallow bonanza is yet upon record. 
On the other hand, if chimney-swallows are thus dis- 
posed of during winter, it becomes easy to account for 
stragglers that, for some unknown reasons, have not joined 
the innumerable ranks of their fellows in their southern 
flight ; but which, in lieu of this, have essayed to brave 
the winter by seeking such shelter, in protected places, as 
they may find. That such stragglers can survive an ordi- 
nary winter has not been shown— can not be, until they 
are taken in full vigor from their hiding-places at the 
close of the season. To find living swallows in a cave, 
tree, or chimney in February or March, would be a deci- 
sive matter; to find such birds before New-Year's-day 
does not show that they would be able to remain in health 
the season through, and reappear in full vigor in March 
or April. 

Judging solely from my own scanty observations, the 
chimney-swallow is practically a migratory bird, so far as 
New Jersey is concerned. In what manner the winter 
is spent beyond our boundaries, I can not say, but offer 
such trivial instances as I have related as possibly confirm- 
atory of the belief on the part of many, that, like bats, 
they strictly hibernate. It remains as yet, however, an 
open question ; but to discover that such was really true 
of them would have little bearing upon such a strange 
belief as that true swallows hibernate in mud. 

What is still needed is a system of the most careful 
observations, made without a trace of preconceived opin- 
ions. "What child but thinks that our flying-squirrels 
really fly, instead of sail through the air ! Too often, igno- 
rant ourselves, we give evasive answers to our children, 
and many errors are thus perpetuated by the world at 



180 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

large, which, a little patient observation might readily 
have checked. On the other hand, when we afiect to 
become observers, how often do we rashly jump at con- 
clusions based upon deceptive appearances! Certainly, 
in my own brief experience, I can only testify to the 
apparent reality of a bird, less common than swallows, 
but superabundant in New Jersey, hibernating in mud. 
I refer to the little rail, or sora. Early in August, with 
all the regularity of the passing seasons, these birds sud- 
denly appear in vast numbers, in the meadows skirting 
the Delaware River. Now, ornithologists know well 
enough that the rail is strictly migratory ; but I have 
yet to see the first gunner, or other person familiar with 
our meadows, who ever saw a rail-bird earlier than in 
July, and seldom then. Nevertheless they are here weeks 
prior to that month, but so closely do they keep them- 
selves to the muddy, weed-grown marshes, that their 
detection is well-nigh impracticable. Of course, there 
must be taken into consideration the fact that, prior to 
the middle of August, they are not sought for ; but then, 
and until after frost, thousands are killed by the gunners. 
Now, the gunners, the farmers, and those whose business 
or inclination takes them to these marshes, know the rail- 
birds as a suddenly acquired feature of the locality, and, 
if they see them, see them running lightly over the 
mud that skirts the ditches in our marshy meadows. 
They are as much a feature of such localities as frogs ; 
but, unlike them, they are extremely sensitive to frost. 
It is not strange, perhaps, that the impression of hiberna- 
tion should have been entertained with reference to this 
bird ; but it must be borne in mind that mere sudden 
disappearance should not suggest hibernation in the mind 
of any thoughtful person. Birds that migrate by day, 
rather than in the night, disappear as suddenly as do the 



DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 181 

rail-birds, but, being seen on their migratorial journeys, of 
course are not invested with, any peculiar habits. 

It seems never to have occurred to those who insist 
upon the hibernation of the rail-bird in the mud, that a 
still greater mystery is the impulse that should affect all 
these birds at the one moment; for their sudden and 
simultaneous disappearance is always insisted upon. The 
truth is, however, that they do not disappear all together. 
After the first hard frost, be it early or late, the great 
majority of them promptly disappear ; but a fraction of 
their former numbers remain. Now, what I believe to 
be a rational explanation of the apparent hibernation is 
this : The number of rail-birds in a given tract of marsh 
is suddenly greatly diminished (this occurs on the day fol- 
lowing the first hard frost) ; those that remain are often 
weak of wing ; and many are found dead, probably hav- 
ing been wounded by the gunners. One and all are 
found only in the marshes, and coupled with these facts 
is the one more important than all, that the rails are not 
seen migrating. They invariably depart at night. Herein 
lies the solution of the common impression — one far more 
prevalent than that concerning our swallows, whose move- 
ments we can watch. While we are familiar with the 
rail-birds, they are associated with frogs and the aquatic 
life of our marshes. Frost comes and they are gone. 
We do not see either frogs or rail-birds disappear ; but 
we know where the frogs are, and, remembering the am- 
phibian habits of these birds, we continue to associate 
them with the croaking frogs, and relegate to the mud 
these timid, weak-winged birds. But, in truth, they have 
gathered their long-husbanded strength, and, in the still- 
ness of the frosty night, have winged their way south- 
ward without a sign. 

As I pointed out in the case of the swallows, many 



182 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

are unable to undertake the journey. It is safe to say 
that thousands that are crippled by the sportsman remain 
in the marshes all the winter, but they finally succumb to 
the rigor of the season. 

It would seem as if such old and crippled birds had 
been made the objects of careful study, and from them 
alone facts had been derived which have been offered 
and accepted as embodying the authentic life-histories 
of these birds. 



CHAPTEE XIX. 



A SECLUDED CORNER. 



Once, in the far distant past — perhaps so long ago 
that a vestige of the ancient glacier of the river valley 
still lingered on the distant mountains — a broad and shal- 
low creek meandered through the meadows that skirt the 
river, and, after a mile or more of independent flow, was 
lost in the greater volume of that stream. This little 
creek, fed by springs that issued from the bluff that runs 
parallel to the river's course, pursued its winding way 
through a dense growth of hickory, oak, birch, and maple. 
Along its banks the Indian roamed, and in its quiet 
waters he found an abundance of fishes. There was a 
time, too, when the spot was beautiful, and there still 
remains a vestige of its former beauty ; but only by 
careful searching can it be recognized. The springs 
that gave this creek its volume of waters have sought 
other channels ; the coming of the white man proved the 
destruction of the forest ; and now there is left only the 
half -dry channel, choked with rank grasses, bulrushes and 
reeds. This to the farmer is an eye-sore, as it yields him 
no profit ; but to me it is indeed a pleasant place, for I 
find a charm in the wild growths, teeming as they are 
with feathered occupants. In place of the forest, there 
are now broad stretches of dry pasture, with here and 
there a single oak or hickory left to tell the story. For- 
tunately in one corner of this low-lying tract, called the 



184 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

" mucky meadow," there remains a clump of large maples, 
pin-oaks and birches, which have somehow been spared 
by the former owners of the land. They are mine now 
and are safe. This out-of-the-way corner is a w r hole libra- 
ry of natural history to him wh.0 knows how to read it 
through. I do not believe I ever can do so, but I have 
made some progress, and this is what I have learned. 

Where the ancient creek makes an abrupt turn to the 
east, and where now the mucky meadow begins, stand 
these maples and oaks. Perhaps they are not very old, 
but doubtless their ancestors stood there before them ; and 
in the hollows of those earlier trees the forefathers of the 
owls that are now here, lived, and hooted and screamed 
in the ears of the superstitious Indians, who trapped the 
otters and beavers that then abounded in these waters. 

The mucky meadow itself has both a geological and 
an archaeological history, full of interest ; but these are 
subjects upon which I can not dwell at this time, my only 
object being to call attention to its many merits in an 
ornithological point of view. 

It is here, at the first intimation of the coming spring, 
that the red-winged blackbirds congregate and fill the 
air with their delightful music. It is here, in mid-sum- 
mer, that the swamp-sparrow loves to dwell, and vies 
with the marsh-wrens in enlivening the rank growth of 
aquatic grasses. It is here that the little soras or rail- 
birds congregate, and thread their way through the dense 
growth that mats the meadow. It is here that, in early 
autumn, the bob-o-links, in russet dress, swing from the 
tall reeds and repeat in mournful monotone their tire- 
some " chink " — " chink. " Let us pass these by and 
wait until October. "With the first white frost there 
comes a change in the foliage. If the summer has been 
wet (very rarely the case of late years) the leaves will 



A SECLUDED CORNER. 185 

turn to beautiful shades of crimson and gold ; but, if 
there has been a drought, then they are merely browned 
and soon drop. In either case, it is in October, and not 
until then, that we fully realize the summer is past. 
"With this change, there comes another quite as marked 
in the animal life. The few birds that remain change 
their habits materially, while the many summer sojourn- 
ers seek a sunnier clime. The birds that went northward 
in May now return, and after tarrying a few days pass 
on to the south; and late in the month arctic and semi- 
arctic birds come among us to remain during the winter. 
In our secluded corner, however, there too comes a 
change that I am ever ready to greet with gladness. The 
hollow maple, that throughout the summer has securely 
housed a family of short-eared owls, now gives us evi- 
dence of the fact, by dropping the leafy screen that hid 
them well from view. While the young were yet babies 
the old tree shielded them well — now they are able to 
shift for themselves, and the tree offers them shelter, but 
nothing more. With the departure of the sunlight the 
owls are all astir, and it is funny enough to see them. 
Of a single owl but little can be said; but before the 
family separates, and w T hile the young are receiving their 
lessons in mouse-hunting, it becomes very evident, first, 
that owls are great talkers ; and secondly, that they are 
decidedly intelligent. I was impressed with these facts 
during a pleasant moonlight evening last October, when, 
having taken my stand to watch the owls, I saw the 
whole family of six as they came from their nest in the 
tree. The old birds first appeared, flew directly toward 
the meadow and disappeared in the long grass. Soon 
the four young birds made their appearance, but only to 
creep cautiously along the limbs of the tree, and then set- 
tle themselves, in a lazy, muffled-up manner, as though 



186 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

nothing remained to be done. All the while the old 
birds kept up a peculiar call — more like a scream than a 
hoot — not altogether unpleasant to the ear. I am in 
doubt whether the young owls made any reply, though 
I took a faint clicking noise to be such. In a little while, 
however, they began to get hungry, and then they uttered 
unmistakable cries, to which the parent owls replied by 
returning to the tree. In the beak of each owl was a 
mouse, or what I took to be such, and when they alighted 
on the maple I could detect, in the uncertain light, that 
they did not approach closely to the young birds, but, 
having removed the mice, which they now held in their 
claws, they chattered and screamed to their young, in a 
manner that could only be interpreted as, " Come over 
here and get your mouse." It was evident that the 
young owls were to be taught to help themselves, and to 
practice their power of flight. As an inducement to do 
the latter, the mice were held temptingly before them but 
quite out of reach. Finally, one young owl, more ven- 
turesome than his fellows, essayed to fly, but it was 
a miserable failure, for, instead of reaching the desired 
branch, it fell short a foot or more, and tumbled to the 
ground. I can not prove that owls laugh, but I think any 
one who heard the old birds just then would never doubt 
the fact that they do. The funniest feature, however, 
was that the three remaining young birds were disgusted 
with what they saw, or were frightened by it — at all 
events, they hastened back to the nest, and I saw them 
no more that evening. 

Of the poor fellow that fell to the ground there is 
much to be said, as it was with it that the old birds were 
now wholly concerned, and their actions were highly 
entertaining. Leaving the tree they flew down to the 
hapless bird, and muttered in low tones to it, in a most 



A SECLUDED CORNER. 187 

sympathizing manner. Their utterances now, which I 
could hear notwithstanding the racket made by the frogs, 
were very varied, and gave the impression that they were 
holding a conversation. After the lapse of a minute or 
more the old birds together took a short, low flight, and 
then returned to the young owl. Was it not to show it 
how easy flight was ? Then again they flew away, in the 
same manner, and the young owl endeavored to follow. 
It was with evident difficulty that it left the ground, but 
when once its feet were clear of the grass it progressed 
satisfactorily, though only for a short distance. This 
pleased the old birds, for one of them came to the plucky 
little fellow, and, with one wing extended, patted the 
young bird on the head and back most tenderly. At this 
I laughed aloud, most unfortunately, and immediately 
the old birds flew to the nesting-tree, and then discovered 
my hiding-place. Of all the scoldings I ever got, that 
from the owls, this evening, was the severest. As I 
moved away I recalled the oft-witnessed scene of the 
king-birds worrying crows. It was the same thing in 
my case. Keeping just out of reach of my cane, they 
swooped about my head and snapped their bills viciously. 
They did not dare to strike me, but they came unpleas- 
antly near, and it was with a feeling of comfort that I 
finally reached safer quarters. 

Another feature of this secluded corner is worthy of 
mention. The herons for many years have occupied it 
as a roost, and every spring the little green " fly-up-the- 
creek " has nested in the maples here. Their nest is a 
slight structure of coarse twigs, and the contents consist 
of two dirty-green eggs, which disappear in good time, 
and their place is taken up by as comical a pair of dirty- 
tinted down-clad creatures as can be seen. "When the 
birds are less than a week old the nest is often forsaken, 



188 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

and the downy, awkward birds find a resting place on 
some convenient branch. Apparently they are quite at 
home, though they do not look as if they were wholly 
comfortable. Their legs are not fully equal to the task 
of supporting the body for any length of time ; and, on 
the other hand, the art of sitting down gracefully has 
not yet been acquired. 

As these little green herons usually build in small 
colonies, sometimes four or six nests are in one tree. 
One summer, some few years ago, there were three nests 
in this tree, and when the birds were about ten days old 
every nest had tumbled down, and five young herons sat 
in a row on one of the horizontal branches. They were 
an odd-looking company, and, so far as the parent birds 
were concerned, it must have been a difficult matter to 
recognize their own offspring. 

"When young herons happen to fall to the ground, as 
is frequently the case, they are then beset by several 
enemies, two of which are of unusual interest. These 
are the musk-rat and the snapping-turtle. The homes of 
both all summer are essentially aquatic. The musk-rat 
does not often leave the water, and it is supposed that 
the snapper never does at this time of year. When, 
however, it happens that a young heron or two fall to 
the ground, the parent birds notify the neighborhood to- 
ward night-fall, and among those that quickly respond, 
or at least are attracted by the sounds, are the musk-rats 
and snappers. If either chance to find the young birds 
they are quickly disposed of, although the parents offer a 
vigorous, and at times an effectual, defense. A most in- 
teresting point is that if, as appearances indicate, the 
snapper was attracted by the cries of the herons, was it 
out of the water at the time, or has it so acute a sense 
of hearing that it is cognizant of occurrences above 



A SECLUDED CORNER. 189 

water, and at a distance of nearly two rods ? I have twice 
seen a snapper in broad daylight seize a young heron that 
had fallen from the nest; and once witnessed the suc- 
cessful effort of the old herons to drive off a musk-rat. 
Possibly in the matter of the turtle it was a mere coinci- 
dence, the turtle happening to pass by as the heron fell. 
It may have been so, but I do not believe it ; and I pin 
my faith on the chance saying of an old fisherman, who 
once said to me, " Snappers don't stick so close to the 
water as people think." 

During the very open winter of 1879-80, a pair of 
night herons or "quoks"made this tree their roosting- 
place. During the day they sat silent, and nearly motion- 
less, close to the main stem of the tree, and so were incon- 
spicuous and therefore safe. Isear by, in the meadow, 
is a large spring, about which the grass always remains 
green. Here, too, a few minnows and fewer frogs re- 
mained in full vigor, and I suppose from this source 
their scanty food-supply was derived. During the clear, 
moonlight evenings of this winter, it was truly an un- 
canny feature of this corner to see this pair of night 
herons or " quoks " sally from the leafless maples, and, 
while flying over the meadow, to hear them cry with a 
harsh voice that was the more ghost-like in the still air 
of a mid-winter night. Perhaps the cry was answered 
by the cat-like scream of the long-eared owl, and, if so, 
the secluded corner was for the time a weird spot in- 
deed, and one to be shunned by those unfortunates who 
have no taste for Mature in her wilder aspects. 

How little would any one, who simply passed during 
the day, imagine the variety of forms of animal life that 
congregates in such a corner. The hr>lloT7 in the la^ge 
maple is not visible from the ground, and yet it is a capa- 
cious cavern, and the home of owls nearly the whole 



190 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 






year through. In a tortuous burrow at the roots of the 
tree is the home of a pair of minks, that have laughed 
at all my traps ; in a black oak near by there are opos- 
sums nearly always to be found, and in the long grass of 
the meadow the musk-rat has his home. A few of the 
birds I have already mentioned. What need, then, to 
travel to distant parts with such a wealth of entertaining 
life near by ? I have been familiar with all these mam- 
mals, birds, reptiles, and fishes, from my earliest years, yet 
not one of them is so well known that a day's study of 
them, in their own homes, does not yield something new. 
Lingering by the hour in this secluded corner, I have 
heard owls utter sounds that are nowhere recorded as 
within the range of their cries ; I have watched the 
wary woodcocks performing their aerial dances, if they 
may be so called ; I have seen the fierce snapping-tur- 
tle play the gentle lover ; and, when all was covered 
deep with winter's accumulated snows, I have tracked 
the musk-rat to his home; and sought out the mink, 
the opossum, and the skunk, in their retreats among the 
trees. Yerily, in such a corner, one may ceaselessly turn 
the pages of the book of Nature, and never weary in so 
doing. 



CHAPTER XX. 



THREE BEECHES. 



I have often wondered that these sole remaining 
traces of the primeval forest did not die of chagrin when 
they saw how sadly changed everything was about them. 
However, they still stand as glorious monuments of a splen- 
did long ago, guarding a little space of air if not of earth, 
wherein, unmolested, the year round, birds may congre- 
gate in safety. 

These three beeches are not simply three enormous 
trees ; but they are, collectively, my beautiful aviary. I 
doubt if a day passes, the year round, that at least one 
bird does not tarry in their branches ; and it is in this 
aspect only that I purpose writing of them. 

Let us glance at them in mid- winter. Even then, we 
are sure to find blue-jays screaming amid the labyrinth 
of leafless branches that crown the trees. Common as 
they are, and in spite of many unattractive ways, these 
birds are worthy of careful study. There is much more 
in them than those who know them only as "noisy gos- 
sips " would suspect. For the past three years a half- 
dozen or more of them have been living, from November 
to March, in these beeches, and have afforded me no end 
of amusement. 

Just where they roost I am not quite sure, but I 
think in a haymow near by. Be this as it may, as soon 
as the night is spent the birds are astir, and, screaming 



192 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

harshly and incessantly, as is their wont, they thread their 
way through, the innumerable branches. In so doing, 
they use their wings less than other birds, except the par- 
rots. They climb from twig to twig, and walk with quite 
a stately mien along the stouter branches, w T hen not too 
upright. Thus up and down the tree, they pick now 
and then a nut, but do not appear to spend much time in 
feeding. 

Strange as it may seem, although so large, these jays 
are by no means conspicuous when sitting quietly on the 
leafless branches of a large beech. The color of the bark 
is not unlike that of the bird, and I am quite inclined to 
believe that the birds themselves are conscious of the 
fact. When disturbed, as by the report of a gun, I have, 
time after time, seen them cling as closely to a broad 
branch, as ever did a cunning gray squirrel w T hen fright- 
ened. So marked is this that I am tempted to ask myself 
whether it was not possible that they had learned the 
trick from the squirrels. Bright and showy as is their 
plumage, these birds give evidence of knowing that under 
certain circumstances it does not render them conspic- 
uous, and they act accordingly. I have noticed, too, that 
they will hide successfully in white oaks, during winter ; 
but here they ttust altogether to the clusters of leaves 
that remain on the tree throughout the season. I have 
seen them creep into a cluster of such leaves and remain 
motionless, although I was very near them at the time. 
In this case they evidently realized that no similarity of 
color existed, and that their only protection arose from 
cover ; hence they sought it. If I am correct, it shows 
that the color sense is very well developed in the jays. 
Indeed, they have all the intelligence of their cousins, the 
crows ; and as they are driven now from their ancient 
haunts in the thick woods, by the general destruction of 



THREE BEECHES. 193 

forests, they are compelled to make good use of their wits 
in order to thrive in the open country. Their plumage 
is against them, and they know it ; and their ingenuity 
is on the increase, it may be, to enable them to overcome 
the difficulties incident to their newer surroundings. Dur- 
ing the past summer a pair of these birds built their nest 
in a small white oak near the house. It was constructed of 
dead twigs, and placed in a crotch in such a manner as to 
be quite inconspicuous ; and the parent birds, when on 
the nest, so arranged themselves as readily to escape no- 
tice. They kept their heads below the level of the nest, 
and so disposed of their tails that not a feather was 
visible from below. Nor were these birds noisy dur- 
ing the nesting season. Indeed, it was only by chance 
that I found their nest, days after the young were 
hatched. 

Unless very carefully observed, a family of jays in win- 
ter would give the impression that they were exceedingly 
quarrelsome. This, I think, is not true. Not that quarrels 
do not arise among them, for they do occur quite often, 
and sometimes end in the death of one of the combatants ; 
but the greater part of their noisy vivacity and excited 
antics is merely the result of boisterous play. This I 
conclude, because I have frequently noticed that when 
taking protracted flights they are often as full of talk as 
when perched upon the topmost branch of some tall tree. 
They will often even turn in their flight to those far 
behind, and chatter long and loudly, as though chiding 
the laggards. In spite of their noise, it is evident that 
it is the chatter of excited but not necessarily angry 
birds. 

There is yet another phase of jay life worthy of men- 
tion, and I can best introduce the subject by seriously 
asking, Do they ever dance ? I scarcely feel justified in 



194: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

giving an affirmative answer ; and yet some of their an- 
tics have impressed me with the idea that such might be 
the case. One glorious day in January, three years ago, 
I heard a company of these birds screaming and chatter- 
ing as usual among the beeches. Although so jay-like in 
general, still there was a peculiarity in the multitudinous 
sounds that made me think that something had gone 
wrong among them. An owl perhaps had caught one of 
them. I straightway sought a convenient spot from 
which I might see what was going on, and I soon saw 
that something unusual had occurred. My first view of 
them showed some dozen or fifteen birds settled near 
each other on convenient branches, while two others oc- 
cupied a broad, and nearly horizontal, branch. These 
latter were not sitting quietly by any means. When 
first seen they were standing together, but immediately 
separated and ran from each other as far as the branch 
would allow ; then, turning, they half opened their wings 
and spread their tail-feathers much as a turkey does, and, 
in this manner, with head well up and crest erected, they 
hopped in measured leaps toward each other, giving a 
loud chirp at each forward movement. When they met 
the spectators joined in a shrill clamor of discordant cries, 
which continued until the two dancing jays had sepa- 
rated. These two birds simply met and parted. There 
was no further demonstration. These curious antics 
were repeated several times ; and then suddenly, with- 
out any apparent reason, the whole company took 
flight. 

I have witnessed such an occurrence but the once, 
though I never fail to think of it and look for its repetition 
when the jays are in the beeches. Had it occurred two 
months later, I should have though it an exhibition by 
two males who were trying to attract the notice of cer- 



THREE BEECHES. 195 

tain females among the spectators ; but happening, as it 
did, in midwinter, it had all the appearance to me of a 
kind of amusement which is probably indulged in but 
seldom. 

Last July I spent a memorable morning under these 
beeches. Something had gone wrong with the birds, and 
the occupants of two neighboring wren-boxes were dis- 
cussing the situation. There was no quarreling, but the 
primp and prompt wrens were in great earnest, as their 
chattering and the energetic bobbing of heads and tails 
plainly indicated. My first impression was that the occu- 
pants of one house had trespassed upon the domains of the 
other, and this is a thing that no wren will tolerate for a 
moment. When two or more pairs of them have nests in 
close proximity, they parcel out the immediate surround- 
ings, and each, when foraging, limits itself to a range 
that does not approach the others' houses very closely. 
If such a thing does occur, nine times in ten there's a 
row. 

The wrens in the beeches that July morning, how- 
ever, had a common cause to discuss, and their utterances 
and actions were wholly different from any sounds I had 
heard before, coming even from an excited wren. Had 
I not seen the birds, I doubt if I should have recognized 
their voices. After some five minutes or more of most 
animated discussion, a plan of action was decided upon ; 
at least, the wrens left the beeches in company, and I 
was not slow to follow. They returned — as I supposed 
they would — to the house of one of the pairs of wrens, 
and settled upon its roof and upon the little perch at the 
entrance. When I came to the spot, I saw, at a glance, 
wherein the trouble lay. A pestiferous English sparrow 
had taken possession of the box, and " cleaned out " the 
wrens. The sorry interloper was at the time inside, and 



196 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

could not be dislodged. There was fun ahead, I fore- 
saw, so I took up a position favorable for witnessing the 
denouement. 

The wrens took their stands near by and quietly 
waited for the sparrow to appear. This it did not do im- 
mediately, and one of the wrens became quite uneasy. 
It chirped and twittered in a restless manner, and finally 
flew to the wren-box near by, and entered it. I suppose 
it was a parent-bird anxious about its eggs or young. 
At any rate, it did not reappear upon the scene. Some 
ten long minutes passed, and still no signs of the sparrow. 
The three wrens that remained never once quit their 
posts, and, wonderfully strange ! they had nothing to say. 
Finally, the sparrow thrust his head out and took an ob- 
servation. Immediately the wrens assumed a "make 
ready " attitude and awaited his coming. 

Things looked ugly for the sparrow, and so it thought, 
I imagine. Still, the bird had no notion of being a pris- 
oner, and boldly emerged from his retreat. In an instant, 
the three wrens darted upon the usurper and drove him 
from the bird-house. Yainly he endeavored to escape 
the sharp thrusts of their bills. The wrens were as act- 
ive as swallows, and eluded every attempt on the part of 
the sparrow to attack them. The moment he essayed to 
close with one, the others were upon him, and so success- 
fully did they manage the fight that they cut off his final 
effort to regain the bird-box. This the wrens had evi- 
dently foreseen might be attempted, and consequently 
they did not at any time leave the sparrow's way open 
to a retreat in that direction. Nor were the wrens satis- 
fied with merely regaining possession of their ruined nest. 
They pursued the sparrow in whatever direction he took, 
and so wearied him with their ceaseless assaults that he 
finally yielded to sheer exhaustion and fell to the ground. 



THREE BEECHES. 197 

At this point I interfered, and, picking him up, found 
upon examination that he was so sorely wounded that he 
soon died. As to the wrens : seeing that victory had 
crowned their efforts, they united in singing such a song 
of thanksgiving as wrens never sang before. 



CHAPTEK XXI. 



ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAKS. 

A new bird in the neighborhood is a source of joy. 
However common it may be elsewhere, and however fa- 
miliar you may be with it " in books," yet to see it in 
the trees and bushes about your own home, a voluntary 
visitor at that, is to gaze on a novelty, and you do so 
with much the same feeling that you would upon a new 
species. Now, the rose-breasted grosbeak comes under 
neither head. It is not a new species, nor is it new to 
the neighborhood, for scores of them pass by every May, 
on their northward journey, and come trooping back, in 
October, with their families. But in 1882 they decided 
upon a change. They came in May as usual, and, delight- 
ful to tell, they remained — not one, nor a pair, but a great 
many of them. In years past, to see one was an unusual 
sight, and to hear it sing, a rare pleasure ; but in 1882, 
they not only came, but seemed anxious to be seen. 
They perched in the trees nearest the house, and sang 
such songs as never bird sang before. So, at least, it 
seemed to all of us. Perhaps, after all, the song was no 
sweeter than that of the wood-thrush ; but it was widely 
different, and was so great an addition to the orchestra, 
that we rated it, while new to us, as the first of the series 
of noble bird-songs that daily floated houseward from the 
woods near by. 

May 21st, I spent a pleasant hour watching a gros- 
beak feed upon the seeds of the catalpa. The tree itself 



ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAKS. 199 

had, as yet, no foliage. From its long, naked branches, 
only the slender seed-vessels — " beans," we call them — 
dangled in the breeze, and ever and anon striking a 
neighboring branch, they rattled like a gourd. They had 
remained closed during the winter, and now, if ever, was 
the time for them to open and let loose the prisoned 
seeds. Their time, however, did not appear to have come ; 
but to-day a grosbeak "did the business" for the one 
tree near my garden fence, Never was a bird more me- 
thodical in anything it undertook, and generally birds 
" take matters into consideration " before beginning any 
work. Clinging to a convenient twig, the nearest to the 
one that supported the pendent pod, the grosbeak nipped 
open the seed-vessel near the stem, making but a short in- 
cision, and then drew forth a single seed. This it trim- 
med, and let the light, feathery particles come floating 
down to me. The kernel the bird reserved to itself. 
Then the next seed, and the next were taken out, in the 
same quiet, methodical way, until the free end of the pod 
was reached. The last seed was detached by separating 
the two halves of the pod, and these then swung apart, 
and, slightly curling upward, trembled in the breeze, as 
they drooped from the dainty stem. Then the grosbeak 
passed to another pod or " bean," nor did he quit work 
until every one was rifled of its contents, split apart, and 
left swinging in the wind. If there were a hundred 
" beans" at the outset, there were now two hundred halves 
of bean-pods dangling in the air ; giving the leafless, spi- 
der-leg branches a more ragged appearance than before. 
During all this time, not a note from the busy bird, not 
a chirp nor twitter. This was cunning, perhaps, as it 
might have been afraid of attracting others who would 
claim a share of the feast. 

It was not until the settled warm weather of June 



200 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

that the grosbeaks began to sing much ; and then, for an 
hour before sunset was their favorite time. Their labors 
of nest-building were by this time completed, and they 
were, I thought, rejoicing at the idea of vacation, for un- 
til the eggs were hatched there would be little to do. 
And such bird-music I had seldom heard before — never 
since. The notes had all the clearness of the oriole's, and 
yet were without its harshness ; they were as varied as 
those of the wood-thrush, yet not so monotonous. The 
charm consisted in our not being able to anticipate the 
song, as it was never, I think, quite the same, though cer- 
tain well-marked features were heard in every utterance, 
and this at once caused the bird and its song to be recog- 
nized. For weeks I tried to express the song in music, 
but the evening's result was a sad jumble of harsh notes, 
and before the summer ended I gave up in despair. At 
times, the wood-thrush, chat, oriole, and the vireos would 
join the grosbeak, and then indeed it was a service of song. 
During the subsequent summer days, I found these 
birds usually in an apple-orchard, busy as wood-peckers, 
hunting for insects, even in the hottest sunshine. They 
thereby proved themselves to be as useful as they were 
beautiful. I found them, too, gathering potato-bugs, and 
they seemed to suffer no harm, although the vines, previ- 
ous to their visit, had been dusted with Paris-green. 
From this I judged, as no grosbeaks were killed, that 
they ate only the living insects, which of course were 
free of the poison. This fancy for the potato-pest ought 
to secure entire safety to the grosbeak, so far as man 
is concerned ; but, strangely enough, it does not, as I 
found a fiend collecting them, one morning, "for the 
milliners." Unfortunately, a defect in our laws pre- 
vented my killing the collector without getting myself 
into trouble, but the birds were not again disturbed. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



EARLY MORNING. 



Before describing the spot, and our object, a word 
about this time of the day. The most familiar objects, 
at this hour — 4 a. m. — have a somewhat different aspect. 
The country was just sufficiently the same to make us 
sure of where we were. Fleecy clouds enveloped the low- 
lands, and acres of pastures appeared like miniature lakes. 
The glistening dew silvered the grass along our path, and 
brought out in strong relief the geometric webs of the spi- 
der. Where a few hours later there will be a compara- 
tive silence, was now heard the choicest vocal efforts of 
all our songsters. Not a bird within hearing but joined 
in the chorus of welcome to the rising sun. All nature, 
except poor humanity, rejoiced that the glories of a new- 
born day were here. 

My object in thus taking an early start was to have 
a day's shooting along the river-shore for " teeters and 
the like," as ITz Gaunt called the whole family of sand- 
pipers. Plovers he knew, and spoke of them by their 
proper name. It so happened that early in the morning 
the tide would be out, and long stretches of the shore and 
of " Long Bar " would be bare. Uz had promised me 
some good sport, and soon we were on our way, he speak- 
ing of the birds we were so soon to find, as a matter of 
course, and I in expectation of all that he promised. 

When the river was reached, for we had been passing 



202 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

down the Popihacka, now Watson's Creek, for some dis- 
tance, a mist hung over the muddy flats and the water. 
Even at a comparatively short distance objects were ob- 
scured, but still we were not at a loss as to the proper 
direction to take, for the clear notes of several sandpipers 
could be heard, and these guided us. 

Uz listened for several minutes to these sounds, and 
then quietly remarked, " The plovers are not with them, 
to-day, and we'll have better luck." 

" Why ? " I asked ; for it was a decided surprise to 
me, to hear him say this. 

" Simply because those little plovers are a great deal 
quicker witted than ' teeters ' of any sort, big or little. 
I'll tell you more about them, after a bit." 

Until the fog lifted, of course nothing could be done ; 
but we had not long to wait, and soon we were able to 
mark the movements of troops of sandpipers running 
hither and thither up and down the sand. We took up 
our places, at points considerably apart, and approached 
each other, keeping a troop of teeters between us. When 
within twenty yards, the birds would take wing, and gen- 
erally afford a shot to one or the other of us, before they 
had flown over the water or out of reach. In this way 
we bagged a score in a little while, but they soon became 
wild, and the shooting grew quite monotonous. In the 
course of two hours we were ready to quit, and before 
the day became really oppressive we were homeward 
bound. The birds that we had shot were the least sand- 
piper, the spotted, several " solitaries," and two of that 
curious form known as the " sanderling." 

As we were sculling homeward, I reminded Uz of 
his promise concerning the plovers, and as we moved 
slowly up the creek he told me the following as one of 
his experiences : 



EARLY MORNING, 203 

" Some years ago, one August, there was a great flight 
of ' yellow-legs ' and ' tell-tales,' as you call 'em, along the 
river. I've never, altogether, seen so many since. For a 
week or so, Long Bar, at low tide, would be just black 
with 'em. No gunners came 'round just then, and I had 
the thing all to myself ; and it paid big. Well, early one 
morning, about the end of the time, I was settling myself 
in a sort of ambush I had, made of cedar-boughs tucked 
against a buttonwood log, lyin' on the bar, and I thought 
I heard the yellow-legs coming up the river ; but instead 
it was a whole swad of little plovers. They settled down, 
black, right in front of me, and then scooted 'round, 
until they made me out. One or two of 'em gave a wild 
chirp, and away the whole of 'em went. I was glad they 
were gone, and takin' comfort in my luck, when the 
pesky things came back, but kept on the river side of my 
screen. They trotted up and down as unconcerned as a 
fly on your nose, and I paid no attention to them for 
a while, as I was waiting for bigger game. After a bit 
the big teeters I was after came within hearin', and I was 
all eyes for a lot of 'em to settle down within range ; but 
what do you think ? those pesky plovers set up a sort of 
a chatter when the big teeters came, and just made 'em 
keep away from anywhere near where I was. Talk about 
birds talking ! Why, them plover told the big teeters 
there was danger lurkin' behind the log as plain as you 
or I could. The birds' actions showed that. They say 
' actions speak louder than words,' and so the birds' doings 
told me plain enough that their twittering, when the 
teeters came by, was understood all 'round, and the birds 
acted accordingly. If you're goin' to boil it down to a 
lot of hard-twisted words, perhaps you can make it out 
that it was something different from our ways of talkin' 
and takin' in the situation ; but to me it was one and the 



204 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

same, and I guess that birds' talk and ours differs just as 
we differ in our make-up, and not in the natur' of it. I've 
seen enough of birds in my time to make me believe in 
their talking, anyhow. Well, I got kind o' tired lyin' 
behind that log with nothing to do, and the tide was 
comin' in, and I felt like blazin' away at the plovers for 
spoilin' my day. If I did, I knew the others would be 
off, and thought perhaps they would come back and the 
plovers would stay. Not a bit of it. The shot laid over 
five or six plover and wing-tipped a teeter, and that was 
all the birds I got that morning. I whistled till my 
cheeks hurt, but it was no use ; them plovers had cooked 
my goose for me, and I've always found 'em a cunnin' 
set ever since. Well, it was only a day or two after, I 
went again to Long Bar to see if any birds were about, 
but there wasn't. I was sittin' on the buttonwood when 
I heard a c peet-weet ' or two, and ducked down, not quite 
sure what it was. Betimes I was behind the log, four of 
these little plover was on the other side, and as busy 
feedin' or lookin' for food as they could be. Now, the 
tides had washed a little hollow in front of the log, 
and I'd seen in it a dozen little minnies swimmin' 'round 
lively and tryin' to get out. You see the tide went out 
too fast for 'em, and they were caught. Well, what 
completely took me aback, was the way these plovers 
acted. They wanted the minnies, and yet didn't quite 
know how to get 'em. They chased 'round a bit, but 
didn't seem to catch any, when, do you believe it, them 
four plovers just walked in, all abreast, and undertook to 
corner the little fish. Hang me, if they didn't, though. 
You've seen a flock of turkeys walk abreast across a field, 
catchin' grasshoppers % Well, these little plover just walked 
through that water as even along as turkeys, only they 
didn't keep their heads goin' all the time like the turkeys. 



EARLY MORNING. 205 

They just went on as a matter of course, until they had 
the minnies cornered, or thought they had 'em. It was 
a mighty funny sight, I tell you, boy, and one I only saw 
that once." 

" If turkeys should do this, why shouldn't plovers do 
the same ? " I asked, forgetting that he disliked interrup- 
tions. 

" All I know is, it doesn't seem strange in the turkeys, 
and same way I've seen rock-fish move like soldiers on a 
school of minnies; but for the plovers to do the like 
seemed all out of place, somehow, just as anything is apt 
to when it is unexpected like. "Well, to go on with my 
story where I left off : So far as I could tell, the fish had 
got ahead of the plovers by buryin' themselves in the 
sand. I was so took up with the way things turned out, 
that I raised up, forgettin' about the plovers, and went 
to look for them fish; the plovers put off, and I looked 
all 'round. There was no minnies in the water, certain, 
and so I dug down a bit, and, sure enough, the cunnin' 
things had gone down as much as an inch in the wet 
sand." 

By this time we were at the landing, and Uz's narra- 
tive came to an abrupt conclusion, for the time being, and 
we were too busy fixing the boat and other matters to talk 
much. On our return towards home, however, over the 
dewy path of some hours ago, but now hot and dusty, I 
started the conversation by remarking that the common 
mud-minnow of our meadow-ditches buries itself in the 
mud to escape danger. 

" I know it," replied Uz, u and that reminds me that 
I've something more to say about those plovers and min- 
nies. Perhaps you've never watched little plovers very 
closely, and so don't know 'em as well as I do. Well, 
they have the habit of huntin' minnies that are left in 



206 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

puddles at low tide, as I've told you, and here let me tell 
you something more about this. You know wherever 
there is a good-sized cobble-stone on the sand, the out- 
goin' tide washes a little hollow on the lower side of the 
stone, and in this the little minnies take refuge when the 
water 's fallin'. The plovers know this just as well as I 
do, and go spookin' 'round ; but seein' 'em, the minnies 
get clear under the stone out o' sight. How the plovers 
smell 'em out, I don't know, but they'll just splash and 
dance 'round, and somehow seem to scare 'em out, and 
then they gobble the littlest of 'em up. When they are 
too big, as is mostly the case, they only worry at 'em, for 
it is only the little wee bits of minnies they can make out 
to swallow. There's another kind of minnie, or little fish 
o' some sort, they don't disturb, I know, and sometimes 
a whole regiment of 'em will be on the flats at low tide. 
They are like little perch in looks, and go off with a skip 
and a jerk, instead of swimmin'." 

" You mean what are known as < darters,' I guess. 
Little fish with big spiny fins, that lie at the bottom of 
the river and the creek, where it is sandy," I suggested 
toUz. 

" That covers the whole ground, boy," he replied, and 
continued, " and they have been something of a puzzle to 
me. Last spring, when I was huntin' for my sheath- 
knife at low tide off Long Bar, I was lookin' at the bottom 
as I floated along, hopin' to see my knife. About half- 
way down the bar, I see the carcass of a musk-rat some- 
body had skinned, lyin' on the bottom, and just about a 
thousand of these little c skip- jacks,' as I call 'em, were 
feastin' on the rat. I halted a minute, and watched 'em. 
They would kind o' haul off, and then give a dart at the 
rat's carcass, and catchin' a bit in their jaws, take it away 
with 'em and gobble it up when they'd got fairly settled 



EARLY MORNING. 207 

on the sand. Then up and at it they would go again. 
I marked the spot, and next day was along there again. 
The fish had gone, but they had about made a clean 
skeleton of the carcass. I never before saw so many of 
'em together." 

" "Why do you think plovers don't eat these darters 
as well as the common minnows ? " I asked. 

" Simply because, when I've been ambushed on the 
flats lookin' for teeters, I've seen lots of these little skip- 
jacks caught in the puddles. Could see 'em skippin' out 
of the water, and the little plovers would run right 
among 'em and not notice 'em. Things like that, happen- 
ing right under my nose, I can't help but notice. Some- 
times the plovers would chase little fish ; sometimes they 
wouldn't ; and I found the skip-jacks they let alone and 
the littlemost minnows they gobbled up." 

" A good many people might see all this and never 
know what it meant," I replied, and added, " I've seen 
plovers often, and shot dozens of 'em, but this is all news 
to me." 

" That's just accordin' to what I've told you more than 
once. If you waited until you were as old as I am before 
you printed anything about birds, you would then likely 
tell a good many things nobody would believe — like 
enough be set down as crazy. I've never told you half 
I've seen in my days, and do not mean to. Tou wouldn't 
believe some things." 

" Indeed I will," I replied quickly ; " I'd rather have 
your opinion and knowledge than that of any one I 
know." 

u All very well to say, boy, but you'd feel a little 
doubtful about it if I gave you a full account of my 
years of lookin' at things in natur'; anyhow, I won't 
do it." 



208 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

" I hope yon will change your mind," I remarked, 
knowing coaxing was useless ; " I want, anyhow, to hear 
you again about the snakes in the June freshet. Re- 
member, I didn't see any of any account." 

"Perhaps I will, some day," Uz replied, "but not 
now." 

Here we reached the cross-roads and parted for the 
day. 



CHAPTEE XXIII. 



A WALK m WINTER. 



The whole range of field, forest, and meadow, with 
their scattered patches of tangled thicket and lace-work 
of worm-fences, on which I looked from my study-win- 
dow, had during a recent January morning a marvelously 
altered appearance. That the familiar land-marks were 
all there I had no reason to doubt, but ready recognition of 
them was, after all, not so easy, when a deep, undrifted 
enow covered everything. 

What though an open fire-place and hickory logs were 
at my disposal \ These are incomparable after sundown ; 
but it argued no want of love for my grandmother's and- 
irons, if so early in the day I did not succumb to their 
charms. Let me first weary myself with a tramp over the 
snow, which will not last but a day or two, it may be, 
and gather material for a dream by the blazing hickory 
logs when it is gone, for the wood will keep. 

Not a sight nor a sound of bird for the first half mile ; 
and as it was a matter of wading rather than walking, 
much of the time, I began to feel discouraged and thought 
of the andirons. But when fairly in the open fields, the 
snow-crust was firmer, and a change came over the spirit 
of my day-dream. I heard a bird chirp, and at once felt 
my strength renewed. Nor does this indicate mania on 
the subject of birds. To be sure, I could have heard 
sparrows chirp, to my heart's content, by merely raising 



210 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 






my study-window ; but these were English sparrows, and 
de gustibus non est disjoutandum. I would rather raise 
Cain with the misguided people who brought these tru- 
culent little wretches into the country. 

The bird-note that I had heard was nothing but a 
faint chirp, but then it did not come from a sparrow's 
throat, but from a prettier one and a wild one, whose 
owner is never here in summer. Here, then, were all 
things needful to play " up North," as the children say : 
snow, ice, cold weather, arctic birds; and so the fun 
began. I heard a faint chirp, and then an answering one ; 
then a clear, ringing twitter filled the crisp air, and a 
great company of horned larks came flying by and settled 
daintily on the broad expanse of snow before me. So I 
had not, after all, taken a walk for nothing. 

Of all possible sights of a snowy winter, whether in 
the open fields or the hoary forests, that of a company of 
tripping, chirping, merry horned larks is the most beauti- 
ful. Nor do I wonder that they like so well to be abroad 
at such a time. Can sunshine be more magnificent than 
when it gilds acres of untrodden snow ? The larks, at 
such a time, need little shelter from pursuing foes. The 
merest ripple in the surface grants them all they need, 
and sharp eyes are required to follow their movements. 
This they seem to know ; at all events, they are happy. 
Yet why do they visit us only at such times ? Do they 
belong to one of the " old families " among birds, and did 
they come in with the glaciers, as some of our friends 
claim to have done " with the Conqueror " ? If so, their 
love of arctic conditions became so strongly rooted that 
no subsequent experiences could or have changed it ; and 
in these later days, when the Eskimo and the glacier 
have alike retreated toward the arctic circle, the larks, 
too, have followed in their wake, and only return to the 



A WALK IF WINTER. 211 

homes of their remote ancestors when winter kindly re- 
stores it to its old-time condition. 

To return to these larks before me : there were fully 
a hundred of them, and they ran with wonderful' speed 
over the snow, sometimes carrying their heads well up, 
and then thrusting them eye-deep into the snow. I saw 
all about me the oblique holes they had thus made, and I 
judged that it must have been done in picking up grass- 
seeds that the winds had scattered, and in catching a 
small red spider that was abundant near the top of the 
snow, for both of which they were evidently in search. 
There was also some insect-life abroad — minute black 
flies, that eluded my efforts at capture, but which may 
have been caught up by the quick-motioned larks. 

Beyond me, the half -hidden worm-fence had protected 
in its corners a long hedge of tall weeds, and these I 
found still retained a large portion of their seeds in the 
seed-vessels. These weeds the larks did not approach. 
Indeed, they are not adapted to climbing at all, and any 
food to be accessible to them must be upon the ground. 

Again, during the whole time that these larks re- 
mained in view, I failed to detect any leader among them. 
I thought that, in every instance of their taking flight, 
I heard a clear, bell-like chirp, but there was nothing to 
indicate that this alarm came from one and the same bird. 
However this may be, no sooner is the note heard 
than every bird rose instantly, and, although much scat- 
tered at the time, they closed their ranks promptly, and 
moved with a wavy motion, almost as a single object. I 
likened it to a sheet of paper carried gently along by the 
wind. With the same unity of purpose they alighted ; 
no one lark touched the snow a second in advance of its 
fellows. But no sooner were they again on foot than 
they were wholly indifferent to each other, and went 



212 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

seed-gathering and spider-hunting, each one strictly on 
his own account. 

It seemed to me, at the time, highly improbable that 
they could follow this course for any length of time 
without drawbacks, and I asked myself if they were 
never molested when wandering over snow r -clad fields. 
Happily for my curiosity, I was soon enlightened. A 
shadow floated quickly over the snow before me, a faint, 
cat-like scream came from overhead, and as I turned I 
saw between me and the sun a restless, impetuous spar- 
row-hawk hurrying by. It too had seen these merry 
larks from afar, or, descrying me, had guessed that I was 
bird-hunting, and so came to see. At all events, on came 
the hawk, and perched upon a projecting stake of the 
worm-fence near by. From this " coign of vantage " it 
sailed over the spot where the larks were, but no sooner 
was it directly above them than they moved en masse a 
few yards, and, settling down, they scattered again. I 
could scarcely follow their movements, but it was evident 
that they were determined not to give the hawk an oppor- 
tunity to single out any one of their number. In order 
to accomplish this, they in one instance burrowed into 
the snow until quite concealed. The hawk, darting like 
lightning toward them, struck the low snow-bank, and, 
being disappointed, he rose with a shrill cry of anger and 
disgust. As he was flying in one direction, the larks rose 
up as one body, and moved by me in the opposite di- 
rection at a rate of speed never attained by any spar- 
row-hawk. I was fairly thrilled with the suddenness and 
sagacity of the movement, which was all over before I 
fairly realized what had happened. I saw no more of 
the larks that day, but enjoyed the chagrin of the hawk, 
which vainly endeavored to determine their whereabouts. 
The baffled bird seemed to hold me responsible for their 



A WALK IN WINTER. 213 

escape, and scolded ine in no measured terms. Either 
knowing that I was without a gun, or being perfectly in- 
different to the fact, he came flitting near me, and darted 
menacingly toward me as I stood my ground. I have 
seen brave birds and impudent ones, but none that ex- 
ceeded this baffled hawk in both these qualities. He 
evidently held me responsible for all that had happened ; 
at least I thought so, as I slowly wended my way home- 
ward. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS. 

In the volume by Mr. Darwin on the " Expression of 
the Emotions," it is stated, on page 48, that " kingfishers, 
when they catch a fish, always beat it until it is killed." 
"When I read this statement, I felt quite sure that it did 
not apply to our common belted kingfisher ; and, in a 
brief communication to "Nature" (vol. vii, p. 362), I 
took occasion to say that I had never seen a kingfisher 
take its food otherwise than by swallowing it whole, and 
that while he was yet upon the wing. The captured fish 
having been swallowed, or, at least, having disappeared, 
the kingfisher will then alight upon the branch of a tree, 
and, stretching out its neck, go through a gulping motion, 
as if the fish had not been entirely swallowed, but had 
been retained in the oesophagus. Up to the time when 
I made this note (January, 1873), I certainly had never 
once seen a fish taken from the water and killed before 
being devoured, and I was under the impression that, in 
feeding, the kingfisher, after darting into the water and 
securing a small minnow, emerged from the stream, 
uttering its shrill, harsh, chattering cry, as if rejoicing 
over the delicate morsel it had captured, and not scolding 
at its ill-luck, as has been thought. That this is so is 
evident, because I have shot these birds as they rose from 
the water, and on dissection have sometimes found in 
their stomachs or oesophagus an entire fish in which life 



FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS. 215 

was not quite extinct. Indeed, I can not see how the 
kingfisher could utter a prolonged scream with a fish 
struggling in its beak. "When the captured fish, either 
from its size or from any other cause, is retained in the 
oesophagus until the bird alights, the movements of the 
kingfisher in swallowing it are very like those of a pigeon 
feeding its young. The neck shortens and swells, the 
feathers are ruffled, and the wings slightly open and shut 
two or three times. 

A further examination, however, showed me that I 
was wofully mistaken in my original statement. Not 
having had my attention called to the subject particularly, 
my casual observations had led me to suppose that I 
knew the kingfisher perfectly, when, in fact, my ac- 
quaintance with the bird was very slight. This dawned 
upon me when I found the truth of my assertions in 
" Nature " doubted by many ; and also, when I was as- 
sured by careful observers that Mr. Darwin's remark did 
apply to our species of kingfisher. Then I determined 
to satisfy myself, and I began at once to study very care- 
fully the habits of the bird in question. During 1873 
and 1874 I took every opportunity possible of familiar- 
izing myself with the daily routine of its life, with the 
following result : In 1873 the whole season — from April 
to November — was spent upon the water studying our 
smaller fresh-water fishes, and my opportunities were 
unusually good for observing the movements of a pair 
of these birds. My daily record of observations shows 
these kingfishers feeding, from one to four times a day, 
for eighty-three days ; or, in other words, during this 
period I saw them dive for fishes one hundred and sixty- 
six times, and either every plunge was unsuccessful or 
the birds swallowed, before alighting, every fish they had 
taken ; making, of course, due allowance for their occa- 



216 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

sional failures to seize their prey. This seemed to con- 
firm my original impression, but, as a late ornithologist 
of note has said, " The horizon of one man is at best 
very limited, and many ornithological facts occur that are 
not dreamed of in his philosophy." I repeated my observa- 
tions through the spring and summer of the ensuing year. 
My opportunities were equally good, and, much to my 
satisfaction, I have a quite different story to relate. It 
is proper, however, to state that during the summer of 
1873 my observations were made altogether in a very 
limited locality — the summit level of a canal — and were 
confined to one pair of birds. During the subsequent 
year, I watched the kingfishers in several different locali- 
ties, and my note-books make mention of these birds 
from two to six times per day, for one hundred and one 
days, or a total of about four hundred observations. Of 
this series I have to say that in eighty-eight instances the 
kingfisher captured and, alighting, deliberately beat the 
fish against the limb of the tree, and afterward swallowed 
it. Thus it will be seen that this habit is by no means 
constant, as less than one fourth of the fish taken were 
killed before being swallowed ; though, on the other hand, 
it is evident that I was wide of the mark in stating that 
the fish is always swallowed without being first killed. 

There is, of course, some cause for this difference in 
the habits of these birds, and I believe it may be ex- 
plained in this way : as already stated, my observations 
during 1873 were confined to a single pair of these birds, 
in one locality; and the obvious reason why these par- 
ticular kingfishers always swallowed their prey as soon as 
caught was because they fed exclusively on the very small 
but extraordinarily numerous cyprinoids frequenting this 
artificial sheet of water. I know, of my own fishing ex- 
perience (pursued after a different manner, however), 



FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS. 217 

that millions of cyprinoids or minnows were found there, 
as though they sought in this canal an asylum from the 
attacks of carnivorous fishes, which are quite rare, as 
compared with the number in the river near by. 

During the season of 1874 I took notes on such king- 
fishers as were seen about two creeks, a mill-pond, and 
the Delaware River. In each of these localities large 
fishes of many kinds are more or less abundant, and the 
percentage of small cyprinoids — from two to four inches 
long — being much smaller than in the canal, it would 
evidently be irksome to so voracious a bird as the king- 
fisher to wait until fish of the proper size for swallowing 
without preliminary butchering should come within reach. 
It therefore, in some measure, seems to depend upon the 
size of the captured fish whether or not it is killed by the 
kingfisher before it is swallowed. 

Both habits having been found to be true of this bird, 
it is desirable to know why the habit of killing the fish 
before eating it should be the invariable practice of this 
bird in some localities, as stated. I can only suggest 
that this may depend upon the anatomical characteristics 
of the fishes caught. When an abundance of cyprinoids, 
which are fishes with soft-rayed fins, are to be obtained, 
then little or no preparation is necessary to make them 
fit for food ; but if young perch with their spiny fins, 
or tough, hard-scaled fish of any family, have to be de- 
pended upon, then the kingfisher is forced to prepare the 
food before it can be safely swallowed. 



10 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 

Doubtless the little saw-whet owl can withstand any 
degree of cold — belonging to a circumpolar family, he 
ought — but, nevertheless, he is always to be found on the 
sunny side of a tree, and along hill-sides with a southern 
exposure. If he comes close to the house, he will find a 
cozy corner where the sunshine strikes in full force, and 
where never a breath of the north wind can enter. 
Twice I have found them on the south side of the barn, 
where they had arranged roomy nests, and had occupied 
them for weeks. Not a single nest, large enough for 
three, but each for itself had a protected perch, whereon 
it sat and meditated by day, and from which in the even- 
ing it sallied forth in search of food, returning, however, 
long before dark. None of our birds, either resident 
species or winter visitors, are partial to north winds. 
Even horned larks and snow-buntings will keep out of 
the wind and stay on the leeward slopes of snow-clad 
fields ; and when our moisture-laden northeast wind pre- 
vails, then birds of all kinds, even to the crows, seek 
shelter ; and miles of walking will not give you, perhaps, 
a glimpse of a single stray feather. 

To return to the saw-whet. Generally in a dense 
cedar — one surrounded by other trees, and not standing 
alone — and also in a tangled mass of green-brier or grape- 
vine that has lodged in the upper branches of some tall 



THE SAW- WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 219 

tree, you will likely find the resting-place of this, the 
smallest of our owls. A remnant of a leaf-nest, made by 
the gray squirrels as a winter home, is likewise a favorite 
roost, and from it the watchful little owlet scans the im- 
mediate neighborhood, and knows just where he is likely 
to find a shrew, sparrow, field-mouse, or Hesperomys. It 
is not his habit, ordinarily, to forage by day, but he is 
not oblivious to the diurnal movements of his neighbors, 
nevertheless. If occasion requires, saw-whet will sally 
out in broad daylight, moving with a noiseless, bat-like 
flight, but with all the confidence of a sparrow-hawk. It 
is correct, in a degree, to consider this owl nocturnal in 
its habits, but not so strictly so that his presence by day 
should excite any surprise on the part of the beholder. . 

In speaking of the allied Tengmalm's owl and of this 
species, Dr. Coues remarks that " they are among the 
most perfectly nocturnal birds of the family." * If by 
" nocturnal " is meant that these birds are more active as 
the absence of light becomes more marked; that their 
activity increases with departing daylight, then it is not 
true of them. To say that owls are crepuscular, partial 
to cloudy days, and delight in clear moonlight nights, is 
true, just as it is of the herons, night-hawks, whippoorwill, 
and chimney-swifts ; and, among mammals, of the bats. 
I am disposed, furthermore, to believe that their vision 
is not as good as that of the night-heron or of a bat on, 
comparatively speaking, dark nights. I find in our up- 
land woods, if the day is cloudy, that the long-eared owl 
moves about quite as freely as any of our hawks ; and 
in the meadows, especially during September, when the 
reed-birds congregate in the marshes, the short-eared or 
marsh-owl is about by day, and skims quietly over the 

*" Birds of Northwest." Page 311. Washington, 18*71 (Government 
Printing-Office.) 



220 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

reeds and tall grasses in search of wounded birds ; know- 
ing that many such are to be found by following in the 
wake of gunners, who murderously discharge their guns 
at the dense flocks of reed-birds, and wounding a dozen 
often where one is killed. That the little red owl is 
quite himself while the sun shines, is known to every 
country lad. That all these owls love the twilight, no 
one can doubt ; but that their activity increases with the 
growing darkness, is not true of any of the nine species 
of owls that I have found in this vicinity. 

Although I have found these saw-whet owls at all 
seasons, I am not quite sure that I have ever heard their 
voices. The " saw-mill " note, of which Audubon speaks, 
I have never heard to recognize it ; nor the bell-like note 
mentioned by other writers. "When I have captured 
them alive, they made the usual clicking noise with the 
beak, and faintly murmured, as nearly as I can express 
it ; but beyond this I have heard no utterance. 

A neighbor, on the accuracy of whose observations I 
can rely, has had better luck in this respect, and describes 
to me the note of this owl as expressed fairly well by 
the syllables tlee-klee, tlee-Mee, twice or thrice repeated. 
Then an intermission of a minute or more, and the note 
or notes are repeated. He further says he has heard it 
during dull, cloudy days in summer, and early in the 
evening, but at no other time of the year. It is not, of 
course, to be inferred from this that the saw-whet does 
not utter its peculiar cry in autumn and winter, or late at 
night. Being nocturnal in its habits to the extent that 
are all owls, of course it must do so ; but, on the other 
hand, it is additional evidence that this species is not as 
strictly nocturnal as has been supposed. 

A word about the voices of owls. It is common to 
speak of these birds as " hooting," but what is meant by 



THE SAW- WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 221 

this term is not very clear. The little screech-owl has a 
variety of notes, not one of which is suggestive of a 
"hoot," as I understand the meaning of the word. The 
long-eared owl is known here as the " cat-owl," because 
its voice resembles much the mewing of that animal. 
The great horned or eagle-owl has the nearest to a " hoot- 
ing " note, perhaps, but it is far less gloomy than one might 
suppose. In broad daylight it would attract and inter- 
est one ; and only because it is heard at night, when few 
other sounds but the hum of insects are to be heard, 
does it, popularly speaking, u fill one with dread." These 
large owls fret, cackle, laugh, and chatter, rather than 
" hoot." The barn-owls, although abundant, do not often 
"give tongue." Have they learned wisdom by experi- 
ence, and fear that by hooting they will only make their 
whereabouts better known ? Not long ago, however, I 
heard one of them scream to some purpose. On the 5th 
of May, 1883, my nephew discovered a nest of this owl, 
containing six eggs and the mother bird. With some 
difficulty she was secured and placed in a covered basket. 
With her new surroundings she was evidently disgusted, 
and soon uttered the shrillest and most unearthly scream 
I have ever heard from beast or bird. It may be repre- 
sented by the letters Tcr-r-r-r-r-r — ick ! Commencing as 
a low murmur, the volume of sound gradually increased 
until it became an ear-piercing shriek, ending suddenly 
with a click. The bird at the time opened its beak 
widely, and closed it suddenly with the ending of the 
utterance. It was several times repeated. 

I say it was the wildest scream I ever heard. Not 
so ; once, a year or more before, while passing along 
the wooded bank of Watson's creek at night, I was 
fairly frightened by a wild scream I had never heard 
before, and failed then to identify. What manner of 



222 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

bird or mammal uttered it was then and subsequently a 
mystery, until the captured owl screamed as I have de- 
scribed. Then I knew. It was the same cry ; but this 
time louder, wilder, more unearthly than before. 

In the interesting series of weather proverbs published 
recently as " Signal Service JSTotes, 'No. IX," there are 
three references to the hooting of owls, no one of which, 
I think, merits attention as a weather-sign. It is said, for 
instance, that " owls hooting indicate rain." What of 
the owls that cry so persistently during the summer 
drought that, early or late, is sure to come ? For the 
past eleven years we have had a " dry spell " of four to 
six weeks' duration every summer, yet the owls did not 
fail to hoot. So too, in winter, the cat-owls scream every 
night, whatever the weather. 

Again, " if owls scream in foul weather, it will change 
to fair." Probably, but not because the owls scream. 
During protracted rain-storms in autumn, and particular- 
ly in November, the short-eared owls that frequent the 
meadows are exceedingly noisy. Day and night, if two 
or three chance to roost in the same tree, they will hoot 
in concert, from sunset to midnight, and no more on the 
day preceding a " clearing up " of the weather than dur- 
ing the first of half a dozen rainy days. More strange 
than all, it is said, "if owls hoot at night, expect fair 
weather." "When, if not at night, do owls hoot ? To be 
sure, the marsh-owl screams during the day occasionally. 
So, too, do the snowy and great horned owls ; but some 
unusual occurrence prompts this. Surely, the regular 
hooting hours of all owls are after they have left their 
roosting-places and are moving about, either in search 
of company or hunting for food, and this is after sunset. 

The principal food of our owls, except the saw-whet, 
is the ever-abundant field-mouse. I know that both 



THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 223 

the snowy owl and the great horned owl capture mice ; 
the former hunting them with much skill, if there are 
stretches of bare ground accessible, during the weeks in 
midwinter when these birds visit us. The "equally rare 
barred owl, too, cares more for a mouse than for a chicken 
or pigeon ; and I have long insisted that whatever of 
valued bird-life, even, these large owls may destroy, really 
counts for little in comparison to the good they do in de- 
stroying field-mice. Certainly, owls, as a class, merit our 
protection, and should be spared the senseless persecution 
to which they are subjected. The loss of a chicken or 
quail or grouse signifies little indeed, when we consider 
the value of all checks to the increase of mice. These 
creatures multiply so rapidly, and work so much destruc- 
tion in cultivated fields the year through, that any 
mouse-eating animal, whether owl or hawk, is a bene- 
factor to mankind. The persecution to which owls and 
hawks have been subjected, even in many localities to 
the verge of extinction, has resulted in losses to the 
farmer, by the resulting increase in field-mice, quintu- 
ple the value of all the poultry that might have been 
destroyed had birds of prey been reasonably abundant. 
These may appear rash statements, hastily expressed, but, 
in reality, are my firm convictions — the results of careful 
observation and study of the habits of these birds for 
fully twenty years. 

No objection, however, can be urged against the saw- 
whets, on the score of their diet. In winter, a mouse or a 
snow-bird satisfies them for a week or more ; and during 
the other seasons, insects, whenever attainable, are their 
favorite food. Black crickets, brown grasshoppers, and 
even pea-green katydids, are eaten in large numbers. So, 
too, the larger moths are eagerly devoured. I am inclined 
to believe that one reason why we see so few large moths, 



224 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

such as the cecropia, polypheme, promethean, and lunar 
moths, in comparison to the number of cocoons that are 
to be found during the winter clinging to the bushes, is 
that no sooner are the matured insects on the wing than 
this owl, the little red owl, and the bats, attack them. I 
have twice found the remnants of many wings of these 
four moths in the hollows of trees where the saw-whets, 
for the time, were living. This fact, further, was once 
very forcibly brought to my attention by an annoying 
incident. For several summers I have been anxious to 
secure a good example of the rare walnut-moth (Cerato- 
campa regalis), and during a pleasant August evening last 
summer was delighted to see one fluttering against the 
window, struggling to enter the room, where a bright 
light was burning. I hurried out of doors to capture my 
prize, but was too late. A saw- whet owl that had been 
roosting in a pine-tree near by had also seen the moth, 
and, pouncing down, seized it while I was reaching up- 
ward for the same purpose. 

Prior to 1877 I had not found any specimens of this 
owl in the neighborhood. On January 16th of that year, 
after two weeks of quite uniform cold and snowy weather, 
it proved warm, rainy, and a dense fog prevailed. A few 
birds of several kinds twittering in the cedars drew me 
out of doors, and I found, to my surprise, that the snow- 
birds, sparrows, titmice, and kinglets had discovered one 
of these little owls in a cedar-tree, and were discussing its 
presence with many emphatic chirps and twitters. 

It is always a safe conclusion that something unusual 
has occurred, when different birds congregate about one 
spot, and are unusually noisy and demonstrative. Re- 
membering this, led me to discovering the saw-whet — the 
first living specimen I had ever seen. 

Since then these owls have been found here every 



THE SAW- WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 225 

year, not merely as visitors but as residents. They nest 
in the hollow apple-trees of my neighbor's orchard, and 
once a nest was built in a remnant of a " leaf -nest" of a 
gray squirrel. But one brood, I think, is raised. 

Young birds of the characteristic, uniform, chocolate- 
brown color are as common as those with the mottled 
plumage of adult life. The plumage, in fact, varies much 
more in this species than with the little screech or red 
owl. The latter may be red or gray ; but the saw-whets 
vaiy indefinitely as to the degree of mottling. Particu- 
larly is this true of the facial disk. I have seen it pure 
white, with scarce a trace of color about the eyes ; and 
again, the dark rim of the orbits was so wide that 
but little white was noticeable as the bird sat facing you. 
There are many other characteristic features, however, 
always present, which render it easy at all times to in- 
stantly recognize the pretty, innocent, and wise little saw- 
whet. 



CHAPTER XXYI. 



NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 



If those who are fond of watching the habits of our 
many birds should happily have ready access to a consid- 
erable expanse of meadow, with here and there a clump of 
trees, and with a creek meandering through it, or can 
wander along a goodly stretch of heavily wooded river- 
shore, they will doubtless have abundant opportunities of 
studying the habits of a class of birds that have ever been 
to me the most interesting of all. 

Being so different from all the others, both in ap- 
pearance and behavior, and forming, as they do, a promi- 
nent feature in the landscape that brings us into closest 
communion with " untamed nature," these birds, known 
collectively as the herons or Ardeidce, offer an exhaustless 
fund of instruction to the field naturalist. 

In the vicinity of my home I have noted, during my 
rambles, the great blue heron, the great white, the snowy 
egret, the little blue, the green, the two night-herons, and 
both the bitterns. 

The first mentioned of this goodly list is now by no 
means abundant, and the white egrets are seen even less 
frequently. The smaller blue heron seems quite indiffer- 
ent to temperature, and single specimens are often met 
with in winter, associated with the very common night- 
heron, which latter is at times a winter resident, though 



NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 227 

as a rule it is migratory in its habits. As an instance of 
this I may mention that, during the winter of 1869-'70, 
and for several years since, a family of common night- 
herons have occupied the pine-trees in a large and heavily 
wooded yard in the city of Trenton, 1ST. J. In this yard 
is a pond which is fed by a lively spring, and which, dur- 
ing the above-mentioned winter, in consequence of the 
mild weather, was quite free from ice, the vegetation near 
it being comparatively green. The many frogs, too, were 
thoroughly active all winter, albeit without much if any 
food, and the many small gold-fish and silvery-finned 
minnows in the pond were as readily accessible to the 
herons as in summer. These frogs and fish afforded 
an abundant food-supply to these birds from November 
to April. Occasionally they would go as far away as the 
river, but they soon returned, having probably taken the 
flight for exercise and not to search for food. 

Least seldom seen, because with us so very shy, of all 
these long-legged birds, if we except the great white her- 
on, is the least bittern. I have seldom found more than 
a single pair in the same neighborhood. When disturbed, 
unlike the big bittern or "bog-trotter," it gives no 
hoarse croak as it takes wing, but with an easy flight it 
goes a short distance and drops again into the long grass, 
where it is, I judge, most at home. It does not feed on 
fish and frogs exclusively, but pursues with wonderful 
agility the grasshoppers that climb the blades of tall grass 
and the stems of reeds. Finding a nest, in 1873, I took 
a position near by, in hopes of seeing something of the 
movements of the parent birds when unmolested ; but in 
this I was disappointed, except so far as to determine 
that they returned to the nest on foot. For the two hours 
that I watched them they came and went continually, 
but not once did they fly as high as the tops of the 



t 



228 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

rushes. Dr. Coues has mentioned a resemblance of this 
bittern to the rail-birds, and, when a good opportunity- 
offers to see them undisturbed, this resemblance in their 
habits, and especially in their movements, is readily seen. 
While the larger bittern and the herons have each a 
stately walk, and perhaps can not run, this little bittern 
will run whenever the ground will permit ; and it can 
twist and turn in and out among the reeds and rushes with 
all the agility of a king-rail. I have several times seen 
them, associated with the soras, run out from the grass 
to the muddy banks of the ditches, and along them for 
several yards, and then dart in again, never, the while, 
taking a step that could be called a " walk." Neverthe- 
less, they can step along most majestically ; and when, as- 
suming for the time the proper family characteristics, they 
fish or go a-f rogging, they act their part with due proprie- 
ty ; but they seemingly prefer to act like rail-birds, and in 
this respect we see in them a similarity to the habits of 
the shrike when it simulates the hawks. 

It sometimes happens that during certain summers 
many of these herons, of the rarer species, are exceed- 
ingly abundant for a short time, and then disappear 
altogether. This is due, not to any peculiarity of the 
weather, so far as temperature alone is concerned, but to 
those occasional excessive rainfalls which result in tem- 
porarily flooding the large tracts of meadow-land that 
skirt the river. These meadows are usually dry, except 
in scattered small areas, but when submerged they afford 
a desirable hunting-ground for a brief period. A notable 
instance of this occurred in 1875. 

On Monday, August 2d, of that year, it began raining 
early in the morning, and continued to rain, except dur- 
ing a few brief intervals, until Friday, the 20th. The 
wind varied only from southeast to south. About ten 



NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 229 

and one tenth inches of rain fell in these nineteen days, 
and, as a consequence, there was a heavy summer freshet, 
the meadows skirting the river being submerged to a 
depth of from two to six feet. 

On the 14th a flock of thirty snowy egrets made their 
appearance, keeping much together, avoiding the clumps 
of tall trees, and at times associating very familiarly with 
a flock of domestic geese. Occasionally, the great blue 
herons were seen in scanty numbers, either by themselves 
or associated with the white herons, and every day there 
were numbers of the small, blue herons, but these excited 
no comment from those familiar with the locality, as they 
are very abundant every year, and at all times. Indeed, 
these — the night-herons and great bitterns — are fixtures 
of our meadows, and not to see them would be far more 
strange to " the folks at home" than is their appearance 
to the stranger, who for the first time sees and hears 
them, as they are fishing in, or flying over, the creek 
near by. 

August 17th, a small flock of great, white egrets, or 
herons, made their appearance, and associated familiarly 
with the smaller, snowy egrets that had preceded them 
by three days. A tract of level meadow, of some seventy 
acres in extent, seemed particularly attractive to these 
birds, and I had excellent opportunities for watching their 
habits during their brief stay. 

It is proper here to mention that even fifty years ago 
both of these white egrets or herons were much more 
common along the Delaware River, from May to Septem- 
ber, but they have now so far forsaken the neighborhood, 
especially during the past twenty years, that their pres- 
ence now excites surprise, even when single specimens 
are seen " flying over." How great the change has been 
since the settlement of the country by Europeans, can be 



230 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

realized when we compare our own meager notes of these 
birds, and indeed of all the herons, with the remarks made 
by Kalm in the middle of the last century. " Cranes," 
he says, at the beginning of the century (1700), " came 
hither [along the Delaware] by hundreds in the spring; 
at present [1748] there are but very few ; and," he adds 
in a foot-note, " when Captain Amadas, the first English- 
man that ever landed in North America, set foot on shore 
(to use his own words), 'such a flocke of Cranes (the 
most part white) arose under us with such a cry, redou- 
bled by many echoes, as if an armie of men had shouted 
together.' " In a subsequent notice of our herons he 
says, under date of February 17, 1749: "Cranes were 
sometimes seen flying in the day-time to the northward. 
They commonly stop here early in the spring for a short 
time, but they do not make their nests here, for they 
proceed on more to the north. Certain old Swedes told 
me that, in their younger years, as the country was not 
yet much cultivated, an incredible number of cranes were 
here every spring, but at present (1749) they are not so 
numerous." As Kalm here refers to the western sand- 
hill crane, it is a matter of much interest, for this bird has 
not been known east of the Alleghanies, except as strag- 
glers, during the present century. 

But to return to the white herons. My studies of 
the habits of birds during the past twenty years have fre- 
quently suggested to me that when any bird or flock of 
birds deliberately choose to frequent a very limited local- 
ity for a comparatively long time, notwithstanding the 
danger occasioned by the presence of man, their habits 
would show the possession of faculties that can not be 
considered simply instinctive, but which indicate the ex- 
ercise of unusual care, forethought, and deliberation, in 
their endeavors to avoid real or supposed dangers from 



NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 231 

this source. To what extent this is true is, I think, 
partly shown in the notes I have taken in the field from 
Aug. 14 to Sept. 9, 1875, inclusive. Just how these 
movements should be interpreted the reader must judge 
for himself, but I think the explanation here given is 
most in accord with the facts, which I regret my inability 
to describe as clearly as might be desirable. Yaluable as 
they undoubtedly are, written descriptions give but a 
faint idea of the varied movements and daily habits of 
our birds, which must be seen to be really appreciated. 

Now it is very evident, I may state at the outset, that 
these great white herons know that their size and color 
render them quite conspicuous ; and I noticed every day 
the same movements on their part, which demonstrated 
their appreciation of this fact. They invariably kept in 
the middle of the tract of meadow, unless when feeding, 
and then never ventured nearer than, say, one hundred 
yards to the wooded margins of the meadow, or to the 
near outstanding trees. This shyness, as it would be 
called, was not of itself at all remarkable, but as it was 
accompanied with another habit having direct relation to 
it, it was very curious and clearly indicated reason. This 
other habit was that of rising to a very great height 
always when passing over woods, as was necessary on 
coming in from the river, along the banks of which I be- 
lieve they had their roosting-places. "While the less timid 
blue herons would pass leisurely along the tree-tops, not 
a dozen yards above them, the great white herons, on 
being disturbed, or when voluntarily leaving the mead- 
ow, would rise rapidly to an unusual height, and, appar- 
ently keeping directly over the spot where they had been 
standing, would not commence an onward flight until the 
upward one was sufficiently prolonged to assure them that 
they were wholly out of harm's way. So, when returning 



232 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

to the meadow, they would, as it were, drop from the 
clouds, while the blue species would quietly wing their 
way along at a height of from ten to forty metres. 

Now, inasmuch as no white egrets have, in any num- 
bers, visited this locality for several years, and as in the 
Southern States they are little, if at all, more wary than 
the blue herons, it seems to me to follow necessarily that 
their peculiarity of flight, as instanced in avoiding sup- 
posed dangers, could not be hereditary, and was really 
an exercise of unusual care and forethought on the part 
of these birds ; a mental operation identical with thought 
in man, and having nothing whatever in common with 
instinct as understood by us. 

Why, indeed, a flock of these great white herons, for 
nearly four weeks, should frequent daily a tract of meadow 
so small as this of seventy acres, it would be very diffi- 
cult if not impossible to determine ; but such being the 
case, I naturally endeavored to mark their feeding-habits 
carefully, and this, with the aid of a powerful glass, I 
was able to do. Their food consisted exclusively, while 
on the meadows, of frogs and grasshoppers, and especially 
of the latter, which were very abundant, and which, hav- 
ing been caught by the freshet while in the long grass, 
were so wet and draggled that they could not escape by 
flight. The smaller herons seemed always occupied in 
gathering up these grasshoppers, and never stopped to 
plume themselves or take a quiet nap, standing on one 
leg, as the blue herons are so fond of doing. The great 
white herons, on the contrary, seemed to weary of gather- 
ing grasshoppers and frogs, and would spend much time 
in dressing their feathers ; but, while really undisturbed, 
they never ceased to be suspicious, and the little flock 
seemed to have a mutual understanding for their common 
safety, as every fifteen or twenty minutes one of their 



NOTES ON OUR HERON'S. 233 

number would rise well up into the air and circle slowly 
about, as if to see if the coast was clear. If at such a time 
any person was noticed approaching, or I purposely showed 
myself too near them, the flying heron would give a loud, 
shrill call, and they would all rise up immediately and be 
gone for perhaps an hour. I frequently disturbed them, 
and so uniform was their action at such a time, that I 
could describe in advance to a friend what would be their 
movements when alarmed. So unvarying was their 
method of leaving and returning to the meadow that it 
seemed only explicable by considering it the predeterm- 
ined routine, resulting from a consultation had among 
themselves, when circumstances first led them to the spot 
in question. 

As an instance, also, of these birds evidently " study- 
ing the situation," I daily noticed a change in their habits, 
as the waters began to subside and restricted their range 
of submerged land. Not once did I see these white 
herons light upon dry land or in any of the trees, while 
in both places the blue herons did so continually. These 
more careful, timid if you will, white herons unquestion- 
ably realized fully that an open meadow, even when only 
six or eight inches under water, afforded no cover for 
their arch enemy, man, but felt that he might crawl dan- 
gerously near in the long, tangled grass, now again ex- 
posed. The indication of this evident train of thought 
on the part of the herons consisted in the marked increase 
of suspicion, and the steadily increasing number of cir- 
cular flights, on the part of some of their number, to see 
if any danger was near. 

It were useless to endeavor to give a detailed account 
of their many interesting movements, all of which were 
so indicative of thought ; but the whole series of observa- 
tions, as I now recall them, and the perusal of my many 



234 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

brief field-notes, more than ever fully convince me that 
these herons, like all our birds, depend upon and owe their 
success in life more to the quality of their reasoning power 
than they do to the mere operations of blind instinct. 

While the vocal efforts of the herons can not be com- 
mended for their melody, there is, nevertheless, a wealth 
of suggestiveness in the hoarse quok ! of the night-heron, 
as it slowly wings its way above yon in the dim twilight. 
The " booming " of the great bittern is by no means an 
unpleasant sound, except perhaps to those who have no 
ear for Nature's varied voices, and no eye for beauty, as 
it is found in precincts man has not marred by his pres- 
ence. Perhaps nowhere, in this sadly artificial region 
where I chance to dwell, is there left a trace of primitive 
times so pleasant to contemplate as the meadow and 
creek-side, when, in the gloaming, the herons come from 
their noonday haunts, and fishing in the still waters, or 
flying from point to point above my head, they call to 
each other, and express perhaps the whole range of their 
communicable thoughts in the one, unvarying, monoto- 
nous note, quok ! 

The scarcely less harsh cry of the green heron, too, is 
not an unwelcome sound to me, and I always greet with 
pleasure the first time that I hear it, in the early spring. 

A few words, in conclusion, about the nesting and 
other habits of this well-known bird. Certainly it must 
be well known, for no bird in the whole fauna seems to 
be so abundantly endowed with " heaps upon heaps " of 
meaningless names. Never yet have I heard it called a 
green heron, heron, or little heron ; but always, " poke," 
" fly-up-the-creek," " chuckle-head," " bastard wood-cock," 
and so, ad infinitum. Why, indeed, these birds should 
be singled out in this manner, and ridiculed by a multi- 
plicity of defamatory names, I have yet to learn. 



NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 235 

As to its habits, there is in nearly every family of 
birds some one or more species that have taken more or 
less completely upon themselves habits not characteristic 
of the family. This is true, in a measure, of the little 
green heron. It is the least aquatic of all the family ; 
for, while strictly a wader and a good fisher, it neverthe- 
less is not so dependent upon water for a food-supply, and 
is often found in high and dry fields, looking, I suppose, 
for grasshoppers. Time and again have I seen them in 
the woods, where no water was to be found except that 
which collected about the few small springs, and which 
often did but little more than dampen the ground. Like 
our spotted sandpiper, dear " teeter tilt up " of my boy- 
hood, which often builds in the upland fields, and is as 
much at home on a worm-fence as is the sparrow, the 
green heron will nest in trees where there is no water 
near, and remain there night and day, the greater part of 
the time. Not that they do not visit the nearest creeks, 
for this they frequently do ; but, unlike the herons gener- 
ally, they are not less a feature of our uplands than are 
the common birds of our door-yards. Their nests, too, 
are built much nearer to houses than are those of any other 
heron. These nests are flimsy structures ; often not over 
a hundred twigs, loosely laid together, constituting the 
home of the expected brood ; and lucky are they if it 
holds together until they are able to crawl upon some 
convenient branch to await the growth and feathering of 
their wings. One little colony of these herons built, last 
summer, in a clump of birches near the house, and I 
think one third of the eggs, at least, were broken by fall- 
ing through the nests ; nearly all of which were so open 
that the eggs could readily be seen from beneath. How 
the sitting bird kept them warm enough to insure their 
hatching is a puzzle. That it was accomplished by con- 



236 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

tact with her body seems incredible. But if wofully poor 
nest-builders, and painfully awkward brooders, they are 
attentive parents, and as long as the young herons are de- 
pendent, they are by no means neglected. 

Among the changes in fauna that have occurred 
within historic times, the disappearance of the cranes 
should here be noted. Dr. Turnbull, in his " Birds of 
East Pennsylvania and New Jersey," remarks : " The 
Whooping-erane (Grus Americanus) may be said to have 
disappeared, not even a straggler having been seen for 
some years. It likewise seems to have been once very 
plentiful; for we read in Hakluyt's 'Voyages,' edition 
1589, folio 729, that Captain Philip Amadas and his fel- 
low-adventurers, who visited and explored the coast in the 
year 1584, ' having discharged their harquebus-shot, such a 
flocke of Cranes (the most part white) arose, with such a 
crye, redoubled by many echoes, as if an armie of men 
had showted altogether.' " 

On page 230 I have given Kalm's remarks on the 
former occurrence of cranes in New Jersey, and referred 
them to the sand-hill crane of the "Western States. Dr. 
Turnbull considers that the Swedish naturalist referred 
more particularly to the whooping crane. This may pos- 
sibly be true ; for, as Dr. Turnbull remarks, it was known 
to breed in Cape May County, in Wilson's and Audu- 
bon's time, and stragglers have been seen as recently as 
1857. It is more than probable, however, that both spe- 
cies were once abundant, and the sand-hill crane the more 
abundant of the two. 



CHAPTEE XXYII. 

NOTES ON THE WOOD-DUCK. 

Wandering- along the weedy, tangled margin of a 
quiet inland creek, where giant elms and scarcely smaller 
maples throw sombre shadows at evening and deepen the 
gloom, I saw moving slowly before me a pretty wood- 
duck that gave me but a moment to look ere it disap- 
peared, not by flight but by diving, and as it passed out 
of sight, here and there on the still waters suddenly 
moved and then likewise disappeared, one after another, 
several hitherto-unnoticed ducklings. I had no opportu- 
nity then to watch them further. 

On my way home, however, I fell to thinking, and 
wondered, considering that wood-ducks built their nests 
in trees, how it was that they got their young to the 
water, oftentimes nearly a mile away. It was the month 
of June, and I purposed solving this question if it should 
happen to be my good luck to find a still occupied nest. 
Day after day I searched every probable and possible 
nesting-place, and finally, where I scarcely hoped for any 
trace of ducks or even wood-peckers, in an old decayed 
apple-tree I found a nest with young birds that were just 
hatched. How I rejoiced over my discovery ! and know- 
ing not how soon the old birds might remove the young, 
I sought for a safe retreat from which I might watch the 
tree and its occupants ; and while the day lasted I held 
my place, but no ducks came near the brood. I wondered 



238 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

if I had frightened them away. Early the next morning 
I was at my post, and waited long hours without result, 
but at last not in vain. In the distance, clearly limned 
against the cloudless sky, I plainly descried a small duck. 
Nearer and nearer the object came, and I felt sure that its 
flight was directed to this very nest. Not so, for to 
another and larger tree, a hundred yards distant, it finally 
turned and alighted on an outer branch. It remained 
there but a moment, and then sailed rather than flew to 
the nesting-tree ; and, sitting alongside of the hollow limb 
in which were the young, it seemed rather to be contem- 
plating some of its own affairs than concerned about the 
young ducklings, that, as freely as might a squirrel or 
mouse, clambered about the limb and over the mother 
duck. Doubtless they were anxious to get to a more 
congenial home, and this wish was intensified by the be- 
ginning of hunger, for it is doubtful if they are fed at 
all until they are safely afloat in some quiet pond. 

I had not long to wait before the modus operandi of 
the exodus in this case was learned. The old duck, by 
sounds or actions, gave the little ducklings to understand 
that they were to follow their mother, and presently she 
slowly clambered down •the trunk of the tree, which 
grew at an angle of forty-five degrees from the level sur- 
face of the ground, and was followed by the ducklings. 
A curious procession they made, truly, and one that in 
times of plentiful minks and weasels would doubtless have 
proved dangerous. No sooner had the last young duck 
reached the ground than I essayed to follow, but so rapid 
were their movements, and so zigzag their route, that it 
was no easy work, as the long grass often effectually con- 
cealed them. But I caught occasional glimpses, and 
found that with but little deviation from the most direct 
route they had wormed their way to the nearest water. 



NOTES ON TEE WOOD-DUCK. 239 

In less than a minute, probably, I reached a point near 
them and the spot at which they entered the water ; but 
the old duck heard me, and with a loud " quack," unlike 
the common quacking of a tame duck, away she flew, 
while the little ducklings, catching her meaning, dived, I 
suppose, and hid in the bulrushes along the shore. At 
any rate, I never saw either the young birds or the old 
duck again. 

There is one fact, too, that has an important bearing 
on this subject. It is well known to those who have 
tried to rear young wood-ducks, that the newly-hatched 
birds have long, sharp, really cat-like toe-nails ; and by 
their aid the little ducklings, while yet bits of shell cling 
to their backs, can clamber over the limbs of trees, and 
up any almost perpendicular surface, if at all rough. I 
have never compared their feet with those of other ducks, 
but do know that their toe-nails are very sharp and render 
climbing easy. 

It is a common practice in this neighborhood to search 
for the nests of the wood-duck, and place the eggs under 
a barn-yard fowl. Young ducks, thus reared, become 
quite tame, but it is considered necessary, as soon as the 
young are hatched, to nip the points of their nails with 
a pair of scissors. Unless this is done, the old women 
that " 'tend poultry " say the young ducks will climb up 
any wood-work and seek out the nearest water. I was a 
little skeptical on this point at first, but have been con- 
vinced, having seen a brood^of young ducks climb up 
rough boards a distance of three feet, and let themselves 
down on the other side. These boards were worse than 
perpendicular ; they leaned over toward the ducks. So 
it matters not where the nest happens to be, as no tree is 
so smooth that, by hook or by crook, the young wood- 
ducks could not get down, even if the old birds did not 



240 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

lend them some assistance. From what occurred in my 
neighbor's poultry-yard, I should think young wood-ducks 
might venture pretty much anywhere that a squirrel 
would climb. Their scansorial ability is undoubtedly 
equal to all occasions, and must be taken into considera- 
tion when the manner of the exodus of the young ducks 
from any nest is a matter of doubt. 

Two years later I found another duck's nest. In this 
instance the nest was fully fifty feet above the water, 
in a tangled mass of twigs and grape-vine, on a huge 
buttonwood that grew from the water's edge and towered 
nearly one hundred feet above the creek. The creek-bank 
here was a steep bluff of about three fourths of the height 
of the tree, and over all of the slope was a dense growth 
of moderate-sized maples, sassafras, and cedars. Having 
by chance found the nest, I hunted for a tree growing 
on the bluff that would afford a good view of the nest. 
Finally succeeding, I took up my position, and with the 
aid of a field-glass discovered the duck sitting very quietly 
on her nest. Day after day I returned, and on the sixth 
from the date of discovery of the nest, the eggs were 
hatched. .Now my interest was fully up to the require- 
ments of the occasion, and I was determined, at all cost, 
to see how the duck would solve the riddle — as it was to 
me — of removing these ducklings to the water. Go they 
must, and that speedily, for the old mother, however de- 
sirous, could not carry food to the young — at any rate, 
she did not. There they were, fifty feet above the water, 
in a tree smooth of bark and almost perpendicular. How 
I trembled with impatience to know what would happen, 
and how long it seemed ! Would they climb down so 
tall a tree ? If so, I trusted I should be on hand to wit- 
ness the descent. 

Two days passed, and still these little fellows stuck to 



NOTES ON TEE WOOD-DUCK. 241 

their nest, not even creeping beyond its boundaries ; but 
on the third I was rewarded for my persistence, for on 
taking my position in the neighboring tree, I saw. that 
some of the young had disappeared, and I felt sure the 
others would soon follow, unless, indeed, their fellows had 
fallen from the nest. This proved not to have been the 
case, for, in the course of half an hour, the old duck made 
her appearance, and now I fairly held my breath as I 
watched her with my glass. After a moment's rest she 
squatted closely down on the nest, and a duckling quickly 
climbed upon her back and nestled closely between her 
shoulders. The old bird then walked slowly to the very 
edge of an overhanging limb, and with outspread wings, 
with a slow, flapping motion of them, let herself down, 
rather than flew, to the water. The moment she touched 
the surface of the stream she dived, and left the duckling 
swimming on the water, and to all appearances perfectly 
at home. This was repeated four times, when the tender 
brood were all safely afloat, and as quick to scent danger 
and flee from it as was their wary mother, 
ll 






CHAPTER XXVIII. 



A SOUTHERLY RAIN. 



" What about to-morrow ? " I asked Uz, as we stood 
on the brow of the hill and gazed over the meadows at 
our feet, now partially enveloped in a silvery mist. 

Uz wet his forefinger and held it up, looking closely 
at the movement of the few fleecy clouds above as he 
did so. After a brief pause he replied, with the air of 
one well convinced of the truth of his opinion, " There'll 
be a southerly rain and ducks." 

A word about weather predictions. I am compelled 
to admit that I have faith in the judgment of men like 
old Uz Gaunt, when they pronounce an opinion as to the 
morrow or a day or two beyond ; but he, like all other 
men, fails in the matter of foretelling seasons. 

Uz does not like my referring to the winter of 1880- 
'81. His prediction, which he early made known to me, 
was quite the opposite of what the season proved to be. 
He consoled himself, however, with the earnest protest, 
that he was never before mistaken; and that "covers 
three more than fifty years " since he commenced solving 
the riddle of what the winters will be. 

" Natur' knows what's comin'," he has often said to 
me, " and Natur' gets ready for winter, to suit the sort of 
weather it's goin' to be." 

This is a common impression in my neighborhood, 
and I presume is so everywhere ; but it will not stand the 



A SOUTHERLY RAIN. 243 

test of statistics. Corn-husks, pigs' spleens, goose breast- 
bones, squirrels' magazines of nuts, musk-rat houses, all 
are relied upon by country people, but not one is' trust- 
worthy. Perhaps the position of the dark and light por- 
tions of the breast -bones of geese (i. e., geese hatched 
the previous spring) is more relied upon as an indication 
of the "open" or cold weather of an approaching winter 
than all the others ; but it can not be of any use, if for 
no other reason than because, in a number of such bones 
reported upon by as many different people, there was 
nothing like unanimity ; and, strangely enough, it is yet 
an open question whether the light portion of the bone 
is indicative of "open" weather, and the dark portion 
of cold, or vice versa. 

What originally gave rise to these various signs is 
well worth tracing ; but it is not to be dwelt upon here. 

Having wandered too far already, let us take a back 
track and return to the hill-top where Uz still is standing. 
No man who, without any pretensions to " book-learning," 
studied Nature out-of-doors probably ever excelled Uz 
Gaunt in correct impressions of Nature's methods. As 
a sportsman, or "a gunner," as he called himself, he was 
a success ; for no one could excel him in finding game, 
or in bringing it down. This, however, never worried 
me, for he generously gave me chances to shoot, although 
I often failed to secure a duck which he would surely 
not have missed. But Uz kept himself, at times, when 
I was with him, so busied about the movements of the 
birds he sought, and was so interested in determining 
how nearly correct he had been in his calculations as to 
their whereabouts, that he forgot to shoot when they 
were flushed. Not long since, he sculled up to a flock of 
widgeon which we could not see, but which he " knew " 
were "just beyond that clump of alders." I had my 



r 



244 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

doubts, and expressed them ; but he was very firm. 
" They're skulkin' in there ; now see if they ain't/' he 
persisted, and so nearer and nearer we drew toward the 
bushes. His gun, already cocked, lay in his lap, and I 
was ready. Up they jumped, sure enough, and I got in 
both barrels. Uz never thought of his gun, but ex- 
claimed with pride, " I told you so ! " It was enough for 
him to be correct in his opinion. Is it any wonder, then, 
that in all matters pertaining to our local zoology I 
should have found him both well posted and reliable ? 

"When the to-morrow I mentioned at the opening of 
this chapter came, it proved to be a warm, rainy day, 
with a southerly wind, or " south-southerly," as he always 
called it. By this he meant that the wind might shift 
from southeast to southwest, possibly; but at all times 
would be essentially " southerly." Uz was right in this, 
and the rain came down in a steady pour, with now and 
then a very brief intermission ; and the river was soon 
swollen to the freshet stage. The meadows disappeared 
beneath a covering of shallow waters ; and, better than 
all else, the ducks came. 

Early in the morning of the fourth day, Uz and I 
stood on the hill-top and took a general survey of the 
country before starting out. He noted the direction of 
the wind, the general distribution of the clouds at the 
time, and then, pointing toward the river with a signifi- 
cant nod, quietly remarked, " I said so." I looked in the 
direction indicated, and, sure enough, a long, zigzag line 
of ducks was coming up the river. "Widgeon and 
teal," he remarked after a pause, and then made a move 
to go to the boat. I wondered how he knew they were 
widgeon and teal, instead of black ducks and sprig-tails, 
but forbore asking, and on we walked until we reached 
the boat. 



A SOUTHERLY RAIN. 245 

A light cedar skiff, well trimmed with evergreens, 
and just large enough to hold us both, it was a pleasant 
thing to sit in when Uz did the sculling. With a 
scarcely appreciable motion of the wrist, he caused the 
boat to move rapidly yet noiselessly through the water, 
and, in some way past my comprehension, he knew just 
where a flock of ducks would be, if they tarried in the 
overflowing meadows. This day it was a repetition of 
the story that may be told by any one who has sculled 
after ducks. At times we were too much for the ducks, 
and, getting good shots, brought down several. Then, 
again, the ducks were too much for us, and were out of 
shot, in spite of all of Uz's ingenuity and our united care- 
fulness. 

There came a lull in the day's occupation, however, 
of more interest to me than the shooting. This was 
when we hauled up for a lunch and smoke. It met 
with Uz's approbation as well as my own, and, when 
our pipes were lighted, I drew him out as I had seldom 
done before. It was a great treat to listen to what I 
may call a natural naturalist, a man that had read 
no zoological literature and never heard of Darwin or 
Huxley. 

" Ducks, it appears to me," remarked Uz, as he gazed 
at the pile of a dozen lying in the boat, " either have a 
strong smack of the human about them, or man has a 
little of the duck about him." 

" Why so ? " I asked in surprise, for Uz was not much 
given to voluntary philosophizing. 

" Because they are so cunning, and do so many things 
that we'd do in the same situation. Now, there's the 
green mallards. They will skulk in long, green grass, 
and keep their heads movin' with it, just so they can see 
you, but you'd never mistrust they were around. You 

f 



246 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

don't see a widgeon do the same thing. They'll pitch 
for some dead stuff, hay or rubbish, more their own 
color." 

" But ducks don't always have these chances," I pro- 
tested, "and when there's nothing but water they've only 
an even chance." 

" That's very true when we're talking about the river, 
or some big lake; but I'm talkin' of ducks on these 
meadows. For something like fifty years I've shot over 
this tract, and don't know about any other but by hear- 
say ; but if you want to know what I think of our meadow 
ducks, I'll tell you." 

" Well, Uz, I won't interrupt again, and I do want to 
hear all you've a mind to tell me." 

"Take 'em for all in all," Uz continued, "the sprig- 
tail is the shyest duck we have, and I've been outwitted 
more by them than any other duck ; but, dear me ! there 
ain't the ducks now there was when I was a young man. 
I've seen a thousand at a glance on the lower meadows. 
Well, as to the sprig-tails, the last time I had a chance at 
a flock of 'em, worth speakin' of, was nigh on to ten years 
ago. A good fall fresh' covered all the meadows, except 
the high knolls, and I went down toward the Swan Island 
flood-gates on Crosswicks Creek. Not a duck came near 
the stools for well onto an hour, and I'd a mind to go 
somewhere else, when I happen to see a bunch of teal 
makin' right for me. I crouched down, and they came 
in easy shot, and I blazed away. Fetched three and crip- 
pled another, and then, what the snakes should jump up, 
but a great swad of sprig-tails right back of me ! They'd 
actually been walkin' about in the high grass back of me, 
and I believe calculated their chances and knew I'd 
be lookin' for ducks on the water, and not high and dry 
on the knolls. I'd a good notion of sprig-tails'* cunnin' 



A SOUTHERLY JRAIJT. 217 

before then, but that made me set 'em down as the cun- 
nin'est of all ducks." 

"Perhaps the ducks didn't see you,** I suggested. 

" Perhaps they didn't, only they did, just the same. 
Why, boy," exclaimed Uz with unusual energy, " those 
sprig-tails were within twenty yards of me all the time, 
and to think I didn't even smell 'em ! " 

Uz here took a few contemplative puffs, and watched 
the curling smoke in silence. Then, in his nsual quiet 
manner, continued : " I'll tell you another thing about 
sprig-tails. More than once I've noticed that they make 
sort of slaves of smaller ducks. I've seen a dozen sprig- 
tails circle 'round a lot of stools, and wait until the teal 
that were with 'em sort of investigated the matter. The 
teal would settle down near by, and all would seem right ; 
and then the sprig-tails would settle, but always on the 
off side of the stools ; and, if they got very near, they'd 
smell a mouse and put off. I've often killed the teal 
in a flock of sprig-tails, and lost every one of the others." 

" But isn't it merely that the teal are less suspicious ? " 
I asked, as Uz paused for a moment. 

" No, not exactly," he replied ; " they are more sus- 
pectin', I know ; but what I mean is, they go with the 
teal for the purpose of havin' them go first into doubtful 
places, and sort of test 'em. If no harm comes to them, 
then the sprig-tails think it's safe for them, too." 

" That is giving them credit for a good deal," I re- 
marked. 

" Not a speck more than's due 'em ; and here's an- 
other way they're cunnin'. They haven't got owls' eyes, 
I suppose, but go a good deal by smell ; and they'll leave 
the river after sundown, and come in on the meadows to 
feed when there's nobody to disturb 'em. I learned 
their dbdge, and tried night-huntin', but it was no use. 



24:8 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

They'd feed by night where they'd never go by day, but 
the whole place would be picketed, and you couldn't get 
anywhere near 'em. Before your boat was shoved off, 
' quack ! ' would yawp some spy, and the whole kit and 
caboodle would be off. I could hear their splash on the 
water as they rose up, but couldn't see a feather." 

" I've noticed all this too, Uz, but where is it like 
human nature to do as you've described ? " 

" Just here — just here. The ducks we've left us in 
these parts know at a glance that it's dangerous ground 
for 'em, and so they learn at the start to be extra careful. 
None of 'em are hatched about here, and couldn't know 
beforehand they'd ever see such a place ; and yet, so 
soon as the freshets bring 'em up the river, they take it 
all in at once, and work accordin'. A wild duck is wild 
anywhere ; but 'round here he's wilder than ever ; and 
this bein' wilder only means that he has to be more care- 
ful and cunnin', and so he is so. That is why I think a 
duck has some sort of a mind. It's a hard-twisted sub- 
ject, I know ; but the more I think of it, the more I've a 
notion that there's a smack of man-nature in wild ducks, 
or t' other way, just as you please." 

"Most people would want stronger evidence than 
you mention, Uz, to make them think so," I replied, not 
knowing what to say, really. 

" I s'pose they would — I s'pose they would ; but the 
only way to see things as I do is to use my eyes. Follow 
up the ducks and other critters about here, as I've done, 
and they'll look very different to you from what they do 
when you see 'em once a year only, and then in a m'nagerie. 
Pshaw ! boy, it takes years to get to knowing birds and 
things ; but when you do, you'll give 'em more credit for 
common-sense than the crowd gives 'em. When you're 
my age, boy, if you follow it up, you'll think as I do.' 



A SOUTHERLY EAIK 249 

" I have been following up this matter for some time, 
Uz, and have written something about it," I replied, 
when he had fairly finished his little speech and com- 
menced a vigorous puffing at his pipe. 

"Written something? well, that's no harm. Did 
you have it printed ? " 

" Yes, certainly ; but why not ? " 

" "Well, there's just this about it," Uz remarked very 
slowly, evidently thinking as he spoke. " It may be all 
very well to print what you know; but I've a notion 
that you're not old enough yet to know much about 
it." 

" You forget that you've been my teacher for some 
years now, Uz," I interrupted the old man to remark. 

" Cleverly put, boy ; but I was goin' on to say, you 
don't know ducks as I do ; but then — but then — but 
then, if you wait till you're as old as I am, and see things 
as I do, the world might set you down as cranky, if you 
printed what you thought." 

" That isn't very encouraging, anyhow," I said, with 
a half sigh. 

" The fact is, boy, that it can't be proved, I suppose ; 
but animals of all kinds are not so wide apart from folks 
as these very folks think they are. If I've learned nothing 
else, by shootin' and fishin' all my life, I've learned that. 
IVe seen common-sense in snakes and frogs even ; and 
I'm satisfied there's a sort of family likeness runnin' 
through the whole of us, whether we've got two legs or 
four." 

"That is the doctrine of evolution, Uz," I remarked. 

" Call it what you choose, boy, but it's true ; and my 
pipe's out, and it's time we were movin'." And we con- 
tinued on our wanderings after ducks. 



OHAPTEE XXIX. 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 



In the course of my rambles about home I have 
found that the turtles and tortoises are quite as well rep- 
resented as the serpents in the fauna of this neighbor- 
hood. 

In the upland fields and dry woodlands there is one 
tortoise that is moderately abundant and quite at home. 
A second is also occasionally met with. All other turtles 
that we may chance to meet are either of an aquatic or a 
semi-aquatic species, and have left their usual haunts but 
temporarily. In the books it is, I know, otherwise stated, 
and four of the ten species are mentioned as characteris- 
tic of high and dry localities ; but this does not accord 
with my experience, and it is thought to be an error. 

The one common strictly upland species known, al- 
though imperfectly, to everybody, is the box-tortoise or 
"land-turtle." While this animal usually fails to rouse 
any particular interest in the minds of those who meet 
with it, still I never knew a person who did not pause 
for a moment when one crossed his path. Indeed, itO 
generally happens that the creature is picked up, turned 
over, shaken rudely, and scanned closely to see if any 
name, initials, or date has been cut upon its shell. Fur- 
thermore, its peculiar structure, its awkward gait, and the 
habit of promptly withdrawing its head and limbs within 
its portable house, and suddenly slamming the front door, 



SEOET STUDIES OF TURTLES. 251 

all cause the passer-by to gaze at it for a while ; though 
these tortoises seldom have been closely followed up and 
their peculiar lives made familiar to the world at large. 
To most of us, it is best known as a convenient object upon 
which to exercise our ingenuity in rude sculpture ; and 
the " under shell " not unfrequently bears the initials, with 
the date of carving, of some idler who pauses for a few 
moments thus to cut what will perhaps prove to be the 
most durable mark that he will ever make in this world. 
This curious fancy, however, has proved to be not alto- 
gether devoid of interest to the naturalist ; for, assum- 
ing that the dates are correct, it has been shown thereby 
that this tortoise lives to a great age, and remains 
throughout its life in one neighborhood. While there is 
great danger in basing conclusions upon such uncertain 
data, still it is highly improbable that in most cases 
these dates are incorrectly given. There are far too 
many instances known to families living in the country, 
of marked tortoises being seen at intervals, year after year, 
for several generations. My father recently informed me 
that, when a boy, he frequently found a tortoise upon the 
plastron of which were carved the letters " W. W. 75 ; and 
that his father had stated to him that, when he was a 
young man, this tortoise had frequently been found by 
him. The letters were known to be the initials of one 
who had lived near by many years previously. It was 
known that eighty years had certainly -elapsed since the 
letters were carved. The tortoise was fully grown, and 
probably was an old one when marked by William Wat- 
son with his initials. In this connection it may be men- 
tioned that the late Professor Agassiz stated the growth 
of turtles to be " exceedingly slow. ... I have col- 
lected data which prove satisfactorily that our common 
Chrysemys picta does not lay eggs before it is ten or 



> 



252 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

eleven years old, and even then it is by no means full 
grown." 

While to a certain extent carnivorous in habit — it de- 
vours earth-worms greedily — the box-tortoise is essentially 
a vegetable feeder, and in summer depends largely upon 
berries growing upon the ground. Strawberries, dew- 
berries, and, later in the year, windfalls from fruit-trees, 
form an important portion of their food. Decomposed 
animal matter, also, is freely eaten. Dull, stupid, and 
sluggish as these tortoises appear to be, they are not really 
so inert as is usually thought. When two or three are 
gathered together, and are left to themselves, they ex- 
hibit a considerable degree of animation, and give evi- 
dence of an intercommunication of ideas. As the result 
of watching a pen of tortoises, myself remaining motion- 
less and unseen by them, I became satisfied that they 
took much notice of each other. They would often face 
each other and crane their necks to the utmost, then 
quickly, and with frequent repetition, snap their jaws and 
occasionally utter a faint squeaky note, not unlikq that of 
a mouse. I have seen them, also, strike at each other 
with their fore-feet, evidently in play, and then scamper 
off in opposite directions with all possible speed. They 
are likewise prone to anger, and have been known to 
fight fiercely over a small supply of food. These con- 
tests are a matter of jaws and toe-nails, both of which 
are brought into play, but I never knew the foot of 
one tortoise to become fastened in the shell of its op- 
ponent. 

I have never, to my knowledge, found the eggs of 
this tortoise, but suppose that they are placed in the earth 
in much the same manner as those of the aquatic species, 
which leave the water early in the spring for the purpose 
of ovipositing. More strangely still, I have never found 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 253 

any very young specimens of the animal. Tlie smallest 
box-tortoise I have ever seen measured something over 
two inches in length, or about one third the size of a 
full-grown specimen. Considering the number of adult 
tortoises seen, this is the more remarkable, and I am led 
to suppose that when very young they frequent localities 
different from those in which I have chanced to ramble. 

There is a second species of land-tortoise occasionally 
found in central New Jersey, known as Blanding's tor- 
toise. It is a very different creature in every way, and 
the two specimens that I have found were as fierce and 
snappish as the preceding was mild and inoffensive. 
Both specimens were found in high$ dry, upland woods, 
though, as a rule, they are supposed to frequent damp, 
swampy localities. Beyond its exhibitions of temper I 
learned nothing of its habits. 

In the high and dry woods it is quite unlikely that 
any other species will be found. If a running brook be 
near by, all the aquatic species will at times be found, 
throughout the early spring, on their way to suitable 
spots wherein to lay their eggs ; but their sojourn in such 
a locality is temporary, lasting but little if any longer than 
a month. All the turtles, except the two mentioned, are 
essentially aquatic, or dwellers in such damp localities 
that the term " aquatic " is scarcely inappropriate. 

The first of those found, either in the water or in the 
wettest of woodlands, is the rough-backed terrapin, or 
" diamond-back," as it is more commonly known. I say 
" first," because it can thrive more easily without access to 
running water than either of the species hereafter men- 
tioned. This turtle or terrapin, as it is more usually 
called, is considered a great delicacy by epicures, and 
has been so persistently hunted that now it is quite scarce. 



254 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

I know a few wooded nooks, here and there, where they 
can always be found, and for several years I have been 
accustomed to meet with three old individuals which, in 
1874, 1 carefully marked. Every summer I find them, and 
I am almost persuaded that they recognize me. There is 
in this secluded haunt of these turtles a bubbling spring, 
which gives them water enough for a bath, though it is not 
deep enough to afford them the luxury of a good dive and 
a swim, such as delight those that live in the meadows. 
So far as I could determine, these turtles ate animal food 
exclusively, and appeared to burrow in the mud about the 
spring for grubs, earth-worms, and such animal life as there 
abounded. That certain plants, also, were eaten, is prob- 
able, but I never saw them in the act of eating any vege- 
table matter. It is difficult to realize how little can be 
learned from watching turtles. 1 have often sat for an 
hour or more, painfully quiet, in hopes that the turtles be- 
fore me would go foraging, or at least ignore my presence 
and act as if alone, but usually without success. Once 
aware that a possible enemy is near, and the turtles will 
remain as quiet as you aim to be. The most that can 
be expected, is to come upon them suddenly when busy 
feeding or otherwise engaged. Then, possibly, they will 
not desist at once, and you may have a chance to make a 
note of what you saw. Years in this way may roll by, 
and at the last you will find yourself quite unprepared to 
say much about them. This, I regret to say, has been my 
experience. In the " American Naturalist " for March, 
1870, the method of depositing the eggs of the female 
rough-backed terrapin is thus described : " The animal 
dug a circular ditch about thirteen inches in diameter, 
heaping the dirt in the center, and then threw out this 
pile of loose earth until the hole was about six inches 
deep. In this depression was deposited eighteen eggs, 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 255 

which were carefully covered and the earth made firm 
above them." I have found many eggs of turtles in the 
earth of recently-plowed fields, but never witnessed the 
animal in the act of preparing the ground or depositing 
the eggs. That all turtles exercise about the same care 
as does the rough-backed terrapin, is probable. 

Quite early in autumn these turtles go into winter-quar- 
ters, which in some instances is in the mud in immediate 
proximity to springs. Here the water keeps the earth at 
a uniform temperature, and free from ice even in the 
severest weather. Early in April the long sleep is ended, 
and quite limp, and I judge very hungry, out come the 
turtles and live on sunshine for many days. By the be- 
ginning of May, however, they seem to regain their 
vigor and appetite, for then they have been seen to dive 
upon the little cricket-frogs, or " peepers," which swarm 
by thousands in the meadows and swampy sink-holes in 
the uplands. 

Muhlenberg's turtle is an exceedingly dull-colored, 
unattractive species, having no bright points or lines to 
relieve the uniform brown-black of its upper shell. The 
species may be at once recognized, however, by the large, 
usually confluent, bright orange spots on the back of its 
neck. Nothing at all similar to these spots is found on 
any other of our American turtles. 

Early in May, 1881, I was so fortunate as to find two 
pairs of these rare turtles. They were in the mud of a 
shallow ditch in the meadow. Their movements, when 
discovered, were exceedingly sluggish. They made no 
effort to escape, and when handled offered no resistance. 
On the contrary, each withdrew its head, feet, and tail 
within its shell, making a scarcely audible hissing sound 
as it did so. 

These four specimens I kept in captivity for a short 



256 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

time, and then placed tliem in the Museum of Compara- 
tive Zoology, at Cambridge, Massachusetts. Before part- 
ing with them, I determined conclusively that these tur- 
tles possessed well-defined vocal powers ; but I have not 
been able to learn that in their new home they ever ex- 
ercised them in the hearing of their custodian. To this 
subject I will return. 

In May, 1882. my son found a single specimen of 
these turtles in a small swamp. It was crawling at the 
time on the muddy margin of a spring brook. This 
specimen was placed in an inclosure about six feet square, 
in which w r as a shallow basin, filled with water, sunk to 
the level of the ground. This basin of water was at once 
discovered by the turtle, and straightway occupied, to its 
evident satisfaction. In the course of a few days the 
turtle became quite ill at ease, and wandered restlessly 
about, anxiously looking for some opening in the pen — 
as I thought — through which it might escape. Finally, 
it dug a shallow hole in one corner of the inclosure, and 
sat therein much of the time. I had hopes that it would 
burrow deeply, and thus make an effort to escape ; but it 
did not seem disposed to do so, although the earth was a 
loose sand, through which a land-tortoise could have made 
rapid progress. I therefore incline to believe that in 
winter these turtles hibernate in the mud, beneath the 
water of ditches or ponds, rather than bury themselves 
in higher and drier localities. 

Ten days later my son was fortunate enough to find 
a pair of these turtles, in the same meadow-ditch from 
which I had taken my specimens the preceding summer. 
These turtles were evidently mated. They certainly 
were very affectionate, and remained constantly together. 
Here it may be well to refer to a passage in Agassiz's 
monograph on our turtles. On page 300, he remarks: 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 257 

" The legs " — of turtles — " which, as in lizards, seem to 
be subservient only to locomotion, perform, in addition, 
functions which we would hardly suppose in these ani- 
mals. Professor Jeffries Wyman had once the rare op- 
portunity of watching two painted turtles while making 
love, and he saw the male caressing and patting the head 
of the female with its fore-feet for several minutes." 

On the 3d of June, my son found a second pair of 
these turtles. I had now five individuals in the inclosure 
referred to. The small basin, which was kept well filled 
with water, was the point of attraction of their cramped 
surroundings. It was continually occupied by three of 
them, as there was no room for the others ; but, on the 
other hand, the others closely watched the occupants of 
the basin, and promptly took their places when they ven- 
tured forth for a stroll about the pen. It was a contest 
between the " ins " and the " outs " the while ; but, so 
far as I could discover, was carried on quite good-na- 
turedly. Nothing like fighting was noticed, although I 
closely observed them — myself unseen by them — daily, 
for a long time. Their appreciation of the little basin 
of water quite convinced me that these turtles are essen- 
tially aquatic, and not a " wood-tortoise," as they are 
called in the text-books. Two, probably three, of the 
five individuals were females, but no eggs were deposited, 
nor did I find any evidences of digging in the inclosure, 
as though a desire for ovipositing possessed them. The 
breeding habits of Muhlenberg's turtle are, I presume, 
essentially the same as those of the rough-backed ter- 
rapin, the nearest allied species. This common turtle 
digs a hole some six or eight inches in depth, and twice 
this measurement in diameter. The bottom is patted 
down with the fore-feet until quite firm. In this excava- 
tion the eggs are deposited, and subsequently very neatly 



258 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

covered by the loose earth which had been removed. In 
fact, nearly every trace of an excavation having been 
made is carefully removed. 

As to the whereabouts of the Muhlenberg turtles, ex- 
cept in early summer, I am wholly " at sea." For many 
years I never saw a specimen at any time, and my ex- 
periences of the past two years cover only the months of 
May and June. That they are not in the same shallow 
ditches later in the summer, wherein both my son and 
I found them in May, I am very positive. That they 
are wandering about the woods, howsoever damp they 
may be, seems to me quite improbable. I have instituted 
such careful search for them in the very localities where, 
if wood-haunters, they would surely be, that it is incredi- 
ble that any of them should have been overlooked. In- 
deed, the five specimens captured during the past summer 
were liberated June 15th, and placed in a small brook 
that ran through a low-lying, densely-wooded valley. 
Up to the present time (August) no trace of them has 
been discovered. Were damp woods the summer haunts 
of these turtles, they would certainly not have wandered 
far away ; and I doubt their being possessed of sufficient 
cunning to elude my eager search for them. But one 
other locality suggests itself, and this is the deeper 
waters of the tide-water creeks, and those swamps that 
are deep by reason of quicksands. Here, it may be, the 
summers and winters of this turtle are passed. Indeed, 
I found that the Muhlenberg turtles that I kept in con- 
finement could readily remain under the surface of the 
water in an aquarium for several hours without apparent 
inconvenience; and when, later, an individual of this 
species was associated with one each of the mud-turtle, 
the painted turtle, and the spotted turtle, in an aquarium, 
the Muhlenberg proved to be as active a swimmer, and 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 259 

remained voluntarily as long beneath the surface, as any 
of the others. In fact, in its movements and degree of 
activity, it most closely resembled the mud-turtle, which 
is so essentially an aquatic species. Referring to the 
respiration of turtles, Professor Agassiz remarks : " In 
mud and soft-shelled turtles, the lungs being much re- 
duced in size and importance, by far the greater part of 
the respiration must be performed by the skin of the 
whole body, which is much thinner in these families than 
in other turtles; while, on the contrary, in . . . the 
Testudo (box-tortoise) the powers of respiration are no 
doubt performed entirely by the lungs" (loc. cit., p. 276). 
In the case of the Muhlenberg turtle the skin is not thick, 
but, being greatly wrinkled, appears so ; and the lungs 
are, I believe, of about the same size as those of the 
strictly aquatic species. Certainly they are very little 
larger, and correspond more nearly to those of the snap- 
per than to the terrestrial box-tortoise. Therefore, I am 
disposed to consider, and feel little hesitancy in asserting, 
that the Muhlenberg turtle is essentially an aquatic spe- 
cies. 

A few words concerning the vocal powers of this 
turtle. In brief articles on the habits of our turtles, 
published in years past, I have mentioned the voice of 
the common snapping-turtle. Since then, I have been 
fortunate enough to hear this same turtle make similar 
sounds in its native haunts. In every case they were 
made at night ; but my opportunities were such that I 
am quite positive that the sound heard and the turtle 
seen were correctly associated. 

In the often - mentioned monograph by Professor 
Agassiz, that author remarks : " Turtles have a voice. 
Though I have myself made this observation only in a 
few species, namely, in Emys elegans, serrata, picta, and 



260 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

insculpta, which, emit a piping note; and in Chelonia 
mi/das, whose voice resembles somewhat a quaint, low 
bark; I am inclined to believe that all of them have, 
more or less, the faculty of emitting distinct sounds" 
(loc. cit, p. 284). It is not to be wondered at that our 
turtles should have voices, for they are by no means such 
sluggish, indolent creatures as is supposed by those who 
have only observed them indifferently or from afar off. 
I have frequently seen them get up a " square fight" over 
some delicate morsel, as a dead fish or drowned squirrel ; 
and again, while peering over the side of my boat into the 
clear depths below, I have watched the spotted turtles, 
two and three together, go through a variety of erratic 
movements, strongly suggestive of play. Even the soli- 
tary land-tortoises, when they meet, will gently touch 
their noses and go through other movements indicative 
of the exchange of ideas. Indeed, I have never seen any 
animal as high in the scale of development as fishes, that 
did not possess some means of communicating its ideas 
to its fellows. In no other way can many of the acts of 
these animals be explained. 

To return to the turtles. In May, 1881, my first 
specimen of Muhlenberg turtle was kept in a small vessel 
of water, for several days, in a darkened room. Twice, 
while in the room, I heard it utter a shrill note, which 
may be represented by the syllables pree-eak, twice or 
thrice repeated; the last time less distinctly than the 
previous utterances. To make it the more certain that 
the first utterance was not wrongly attributed to the tur- 
tle, I caused a ray of light to be thrown upon the vessel 
containing the animal, and I remained in the dark, but 
quite near at hand. I could plainly see every movement 
of the turtle, but do not think I was seen by it. After 
the lapse of half an hour after the first utterance heard, I 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 261 

saw the turtle come to the surface, and crane its neck as 
far out of the water as possible. Opening its mouth 
widely, it made the same utterance, and repeated it, after 
an interval of probably ten seconds. The sound was 
different from that of the snapper, but the movements 
accompanying the utterances were identical. Since then, 
I have not been able to detect any evidence of vocal 
powers ; but it must be borne in mind that in my sub- 
sequent studies of these turtles I had several associated ; 
and if, as I suppose, the note I heard is really a " call," 
then it would only be uttered by solitary individuals, 
when in search of a mate. 

Early in summer, if at no other time, the voice of the 
turtle is heard in the land. 

The pretty speckled turtle next commands our atten- 
tion, and although a very abundant species, it may yet 
be studied to advantage without fear of repetition, as 
there remains much to be said as to its habits. 

This turtle is at once recognized by its jet-black shell, 
sparsely sprinkled with small, round, bright-yellow spots. 
It can never be mistaken for any other species. Strictly 
aquatic in habit, it favors quiet waters, and is essentially 
inactive except during the breeding season. Then it is 
very restless, and comes into ditches where it is not only 
impossible to swim, but where the water is so shallow 
that its shell is exposed as it crawls over the mud. At 
such times they are found in pairs, and are very demon- 
strative. However inert they may appear at other times, 
they are, throughout the month of May, more like all the 
rest of animated nature, and they then give evidence of 
capabilities of exertion not apparent during the summer 
and autumn. 

Like all the turtles, when the weather has become 
fairly warm, and the surface soil has lost much of the 



262 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

dampness of melted snows and spring rains, this species 
is found wending its way to the upland fields, in search 
of suitable places for depositing its eggs. That the same 
spots are frequented, year after year, is not probable. I 
have often marked turtles that I have found in May, in 
sandy fields, in hopes that at the same time in succeeding 
years I might again see them ; but in no instance have I 
been successful. While these animals remain in the same 
pond or creek throughout their lives, as I have proved 
by many experiments, it would seem that, unlike many 
birds, they seldom, or only by chance, deposit their eggs 
in the same place. The distance from water of the locali- 
ties chosen for ovipositing varies greatly, and this w r ould 
seem to indicate that great care is exercised in choosing 
the site for this purpose. Often I have found these tur- 
tles wandering over hot, dusty fields, that had been re- 
cently plowed, where every square foot for acres seemed 
well suited to their purpose ; and still on they went into 
apparently less favorable fields, where they halted, per- 
haps half a mile from water. It is proper, however, to 
add that I have never found their eggs at a greater dis- 
tance than this from the streams or ponds which the 
species frequents during the summer. 

To what extent these turtles are active, and how they 
pass their time when in the water, I am not prepared to 
say ; but on bright days they are fond of basking in the 
noon-day sun, and, in company with the larger red-bellied 
turtles, they are often found resting on a floating log, or 
perched upon a projecting stump. At such times they 
are quick to scent danger, or hear it, and when ap- 
proached they promptly slide from the log or stump 
into the depths below. Their eyes and ears are then 
depended upon ; " the sense of seeing," according to 
Professor Agassiz, "and particularly that of hearing, 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES 263 

beiDg highly developed, . . . the sense of smell much 
less so." 

The sense of seeing is not only highly developed for 
the needs of the day, but it is also available for wandering 
and hunting at night. From the fact that I have fre- 
quently found them moving about at that time, I judge 
that their vision is largely like that of the owls. Cer- 
tainly, during moonlight nights aquatic turtles of all 
kinds can be found more frequently than during the 
day. 

Fully as common, and far more handsome than the 
preceding, is the pretty painted turtle. The beautifully 
variegated shell — red, yellow, and blue-black — of this spe- 
cies makes it a very prominent object in the assembled 
attractions of a clear, sandy-bottomed pond ; and though 
it frequently dwells throughout its long life in the mud- 
diest, gloomiest ponds of marshy, weed-grown meadows, 
yet I am persuaded that it prefers clear waters, where its 
bright colors show to advantage. In the month of May, 
a pair of these turtles can not be observed for any length 
of time without showing conclusively that these bright 
colors are appreciated among themselves, and that sexual 
selection has been the potent factor in the evolution of 
these prominent markings of the shell. An interesting 
fact, in connection with this phase of bright coloration, is 
that the painted turtle is much more diurnal in its habits 
than any other of the aquatic species found in this vicin- 
ity. It is possible that this assertion may be claimed 
as mere fancy on my part ; but I do not fear the result 
if any of my readers will follow these turtles closely for 
weeks and months. It is only by such means that they can 
be successfully studied ; and the inference I have drawm, 
based upon hundreds of observations, is, as I have stated, 



264 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

that this turtle is more diurnal in its habits than any of the 
others. Whether this fact and that of the bright colora- 
tion of its shell have any connection, must be decided by 
each one for himself. My own conviction is, that they 
are closely related. 

The large red-bellied turtle, which formerly was the 
most abundant of all our aquatic species, has of late 
proved to be quite rare. In quiet ponds and sluggish 
creeks, if shaded by heavy growths of timber, nothing was 
more common than to see scores of these black-backed 
turtles, perched upon every projecting stump and floating 
fragment of wood. Here, apparently, the live-long day 
they would quietly rest, never, as it seemed to me, volun- 
arily returning to the muddy depths from which they 
had come. They were ever on the alert, however, and 
although I often approached them carefully, yet they 
always knew of my coming, and with a gentle gliding 
motion they passed so quietly into the water that scarce- 
ly a ripple was caused by the movement. In midsum- 
mer they remained on their floating perches far into the 
night, and I often wondered when they sought their 
food — if, indeed, they ever did anything but float about 
lonesome waters on rotten logs, or pass their time in 
quiet contemplation, perched upon every convenient pro- 
jecting stump. 

These were the thoughts of thirty years ago, but since 
then I have had too few opportunities to study them 
more closely. 

De Kay says of them, " They are brought to our mar- 
kets — New York city — from New Jersey, where they are 
very numerous in running streams. As an article of food 
they are equally prized with the preceding" (rough- 
backed terrapin). Probably the fact that they are so 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 265 

prized as an article of food has had much to d 
their gradual disappearance in many localities where thev 
were once abundant. 

Of its habits generally, I am ashamed to admit, I know 
nothing. 

Modern civilization, fortunately, has not as yet devised 
any means of utilizing the unattractive mud-turtle : so 
they remain, as of yore, fairly abundant in all muddy 

.;ins, ponds, and ditches. I know those best which 
frequent the ditches in :ny mellows. These ditches are 
now quite like natural water-courses, by virtue of the 
green banks and weedy growths which all summer eh 
the sluggish current that passes slowly through them. 
Through these weeds, and in the foot or more of mud 
that sustains their growth, these turtles, " mud-diggers " 
a call them. heir seemingly monotonous 

lives, seldom poking their noses above the surface. Of 
course, in spring, they take an overland journey to some 
sunny, sandy field to lay their eggs. Having accom- 
plished this, they hasten back to their proper homes, and 
this is the extent of their travels. Do they cogitate, on 
their return, over what they saw in the outside wo: 
They have little brains, to be sure, but as they often pre 
that they have a modicum of common-sense. :: is n:: 
altogether impossible. 

Unlike the preceding - of aquat 

one shuns the sunlight, and keeps closely to the deepest 
holes that it can find. Here they dwell in company, 
often a hundred or more t gether, remaining throughout 
the day comparatively quiet. At night, however, they 
are fairly a: ::d, guided I ense of smell, they 

hunt for such animal food as may chance to be available. 
I say active at night and passive by day, for, when fishing 
12 



266 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

in the daytime, I have caught them but very seldom 
when compared with the frequency with which I have 
taken the odoriferous musk-turtle ; but when bobbing for 
eels, or fishing at night, I have often been disgusted at 
the way in which they seized my hooks. From this sim- 
ple fact, I believe that they are more strictly nocturnal 
than the other mud-turtle just mentioned. Here, again, 
the subject of color comes to the front. This nocturnal 
mud-turtle has not a vestige of beauty about it. It is su- 
perlatively homely, and so it is fitting that it should be 
nocturnal in habit. Possibly, it has greater vocal powers 
than the others, but this I can not say. Now, on the 
other hand, the strongly-scented musk-turtle, popularly 
known by an expressive but scarcely mentionable name, 
is quite handsomely marked with lines of brilliant yel- 
low on a black background ; and, furthermore, although 
a mud-turtle, it is quite diurnal in its habits, and even 
wanders into the clear waters, where it can exhibit its at- 
tractions to the best advantage. It can scarcely be mere 
coincidence, that bright colors and diurnal habits always 
go together. 

A curious appearance is given to these mud-turtles, at 
times, by the growth of a grass-like plant over their upper 
shells, which gently waves to and fro in the water as 
they move along. This plant does not seem to be affected 
by the habit of the turtle of burrowing in the mud. It 
thrives even there, and when the animal emerges from 
its burrow the plant is quickly freed of all foreign mat- 
ter by the water, and w T aves as freely and is as brightly 
green as before. This same growth is common also to 
the fierce snapping-turtle, of which more anon. 

Mud-turtles are mere scavengers. Those that I have 
kept in aquaria would never take living prey ; but no 
sooner was the fish or frog killed than they would devour 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES 267 

it greedily. Even when snappers set them the example, 
they seemed willing to remain hungry rather than seize a 
fish while yet a spark of life remained. "When, however, 
a dead fish was placed before several of these mud-tur- 
tles in a small aquarium, their mental powers were read- 
ily brought into play ; and each turtle, in the endeavor 
to appropriate the entire fish to itself, would bid defiance 
to its neighbors. In one instance, the largest turtle cov- 
ered the fish with its shell and endeavored to keep the 
others off, while, at the same time, it tried to get an 
occasional bite at the jealously-guarded tidbit. In this 
manoeuvre it was not successful ; and it was quite evident, 
from the free fight that ensued, that their distant kinship 
to man is no theory, but a demonstrable fact, if their ex- 
hibition of anger and the very human-like way in which 
they fought has any bearing on the question. If, how- 
ever, there is nothing for them to quarrel about, they are 
as peaceful as lambs. 

When it is said of the musk-turtle that it is not so 
strictly a mud-loving species as the foregoing, and that 
it is almost as active by day as by night, we have about 
covered the ground, so far as its habits are known. In all 
respects, it is like the other water-turtles as they appear 
to the casual observer. There are some points of inter- 
est connected with it, however, which may properly be 
noted. According to Professor Agassiz, with the excep- 
tion of the snapper, none of the turtles that I have men- 
tioned catch active prey, or are in any way ferocious ; 
they are, indeed, entirely harmless, and " only when hard 
pressed, defend themselves by biting. Their food is both 
vegetable and animal ; the latter they tear with their 
jaws, holding it down when necessary with their fore- 
feet." Another exception to this generalization is that 



268 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of this musk or stinking turtle. In an early volume of 
the " American Naturalist " I referred to this species as 
follows, in connection with the habits of a curious little 
fish, the mud-minnow : I remarked that these minnows 
are exposed to attacks from a voracious animal, which 
takes advantage of the habit of the minnow of lying 
more than half buried in the mud. The musk-turtle is 
able to discover the whereabouts of the mud-minnow 
without alarming the fish, and, cautiously approaching 
from behind, seizes it by the head. This they generally 
completely sever from the body, and then draw from the 
mud the decapitated body. 

I have lately had specimens of these turtles in an 
aquarium, in which I placed a number of mud-minnows ; 
and have seen the turtles time and again seize the fish 
with all the dexterity and quickness of a snapper. I be- 
lieve this habit has gradually come about much in the 
following way : These mud-minnows have a curious 
habit of assuming the strangest positions, often quite 
unlifelike, and maintain them for many minutes at a time. 
They might readily be mistaken for bent twigs or life- 
less, distorted fish. Under these circumstances, a prowl- 
ing musk-turtle, seeing a mud-minnow which it supposed 
to be dead, might snap at it in a somewhat leisurely way 
and succeed in seizing it. More frequently, however, it 
would fail in the effort. "Want of success would, how- 
ever, insure greater caution and quicker movements on 
the part of the turtle, and finally result in establishing the 
method of stealthy approach and quick snap that charac- 
terizes the true snapping-turtle. Whether this explains 
the origin of the habit or not, certain it is that the musk- 
turtle does now seize active, living prey, and that it exer- 
cises much caution in approaching, and dexterity in seiz- 
ing it. 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES 269 

The last of the series of ten species of turtles found in 
this vicinity, but by no means the least, is the ferocious 
snapper. 

This is our largest and fiercest turtle. In many ways 
it differs materially from all the others. The common 
name " snapper " is derived from the manner in which 
it seizes its prey. This snapping movement is not, 
strictly speaking, confined to this species, as has been 
shown, but it is intensified, as it were, among them, and 
is withal so sudden and effective that it dwarfs all like 
efforts on the part of the other species. When a fish is 
seen approaching, the snapper, even in the close confines 
of an aquarium, withdraws its head, and at the same time 
elevates its body by its fore-feet ; then, if the fish comes 
near enough, the neck of the snapper is suddenly length- 
ened, its body thrown forward, and the fish seized. 
Once let the powerful jaws close upon the victim, and 
nothing can force the turtle to relax its hold. 

Fish are not, however, the only food of the snappers, 
as they do not hesitate to attack anything in the way of 
beast or bird that they can seize, and if they succeed in 
drowning the animal that they have caught, they soon 
make a meal of it. I have known a quite small snapper 
to seize a full-grown musk-rat by a hind leg and drag it 
into deep water, where I suppose it was held until 
drowned. Certainly, numbers of young ducks are annu- 
ally destroyed by these voracious creatures. 

When on land, the snapper seems to be quite at home, 
although his movements are very awkward in appearance. 
They are not, however, really so, as their rate of travel 
overland is greater than that of any other of the strictly 
aquatic species of turtle. The late Dr. Holbrook, in his 
* American Herpetology," says, the snapper " moves 
along with head and neck stretched out, moving them to 



270 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

and fro as he proceeds, as though inspecting the ground 
as he goes. His walk is said to resemble that of our 
alligator ; like them, falling now and then on his sternum 
to rest, and then proceeding." 

In New Jersey these turtles vary, in successive years, 
as to the time of leaving the water for the purpose of 
laying their eggs. I have occasionally found them as 
early as the first week in April, but usually not until a 
month later. My impression is that they do not wander 
so far from the water, and are less particular about the 
localities chosen for depositing their eggs than are the 
other turtles. I have often found them but two or three 
hundred yards from the pond or creek from which the 
animals had come. They dig quite shallow beds, com- 
paratively, in sandy soils, and place therein their whole 
complement of eggs. Once laid, no care seems to be ex- 
ercised in covering the spot, and so it is readily found. 
Skunks have a decided liking for their eggs, and may 
frequently be found, during moonlight nights, digging 
them up. Indeed, in isolated spots, the skunks will be 
abroad during the day, and dig out the eggs as soon as 
the fierce old snapper has left them. 

It is at this time of the year that we may most con- 
fidently expect to hear the snappers make that peculiar 
sound which comprehends their entire range of vocal 
powers. It is a hoarse "kweep," much like that ot the 
Muhlenberg turtle, and uttered under similar circum- 
stances. In thus limiting their vocal utterances to a sin- 
gle sound I may perhaps be somewhat hasty, but, after 
years of patient watching, I have never heard any other 
that could be confidently attributed to them. Old fisher- 
men and snapper-hunters have told me, however, that they 
do occasionally make a deep roaring or bellowing sound, 
by which I understand a roaring sound heard at a great 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 271 

distance. Such a sound I, too, have heard coming, as I 
thought at the time, directly from the water, but I never 
saw a snapper in the act of uttering it; so I can only 
mention a peculiar, hoarse note, like " kweep," which, to 
my positive knowledge, is often made by them early in 
May, or just previous to the time of their leaving the 
water for the purpose of depositing their eggs. 

No sooner are the young snappers free from the egg- 
case than they make their way directly to the nearest 
water, guided, I suppose, by the sense of smell. Once 
in their proper element, and their activity becomes very 
noticeable. All the day long they paddle ceaselessly 
about, snapping at every minnow and insect in and out 
of reach. According to Professor Agassiz, this snapping 
habit commences wonderfully soon in life. In his famous 
"Contributions to the Natural History of the United 
States," he says : " The snapping turtle . . . exhibits . . . 
its ferocious habits even before it leaves the egg, before 
it breathes through lungs ; before its derm is ossified to 
form a bony shield, etc. ; nay, it snaps with its gaping 
jaws at anything brought near, though it be still sur- 
rounded by its amnios and allantois, and its yolk still 
exceeds in bulk its whole body." And again : " I have 
seen it snapping in the same fierce manner as it does 
when full grown, at a time it was a pale, colorless embryo, 
wrapped in its foetal envelopes . . . three months before 
hatching." "What, then, may we not expect from this 
animal when it reaches a foot or more in length ? To it, 
indeed, may be attributed the scarcity of much of that 
animal life now frequenting our waters. On the other 
hand, the snapper seems to have no enemies to bother it, 
unless it be such as prey upon the very young. Can it 
be that their undue increase is checked by mammals, like 
the skunk, which hunt and devour their eggs? When 



272 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

we consider this immunity from the attacks of enemies, 
and the numbers of eggs that an adult annually lays, the 
number of snappers found in any one locality is not very 
great, and hence it is evident there must be, somewhere, 
a check upon their increase. 

We might be led to suppose, from their activity and 
the enormous quantity of food consumed, that the growth 
of the young snapper was very rapid for the first two or 
three years ; but this is not the case. Agassiz determined 
that when a snapper was six and one half inches long, it 
was twelve years old ; when twelve inches long, it was 
thirty-eight years old. After twelve years he states that 
growth is much slower, and mentions one instance of a 
growth of but one inch in forty-five years. 

I have not been able to learn what may be considered 
the maximum size of this turtle. In fact, there appears 
to be no limit to their growth. I have seen one specimen 
that weighed just sixty pounds, and have been told of 
others considerably heavier. Specimens weighing over 
thirty pounds, however, are not common. 

A few words, in conclusion, with reference to a habit 
common to all our turtles, that of hibernation. On the 
approach of cold weather these animals, as a class, are 
supposed to bury themselves deeply in the mud at the 
bottom of ponds and streams, and there to remain until 
every vestige of winter has disappeared. This is the 
common impression, though I question if it be strictly 
true. Careful examination will show that the supposed 
torpidity has, in part, no real existence. Indeed, the 
habit is affected very materially by the severity of the 
winter ; for when there occurs a very green Christmas, 
it is not a remarkable occurrence to find a box-tortoise 
on the sunny south side of some wooded slope. Languid 
and limp, it may be, but it will be found to have enough 



SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 273 

vitality to enjoy a midday outing, and vigor sufficient to 
enable it to return to its quiet underground retreat 
toward the close of the day. In most ponds of any con- 
siderable extent, frequented by turtles, there are one or 
more deep holes wherein many of the different species 
are found to take refuge after the first hard or plant- 
killing frost. Here they remain, in the deeper and 
warmer water of these holes, when the shallower portions 
of the ponds are coated with ice. Now, do they lie in 
the mud in these holes in a torpid condition ? 

Throughout the winter, in these same deep holes, I 
have found that many of our fish also congregate ; and 
the turtles, to a certain extent, during the winter prey 
upon these fish ; the snappers occasionally catching one, 
and the other turtles feeding upon the remains of the 
snapper's feast. What first gave me this impression was 
the fact that I frequently found in nets set under the ice, 
even in midwinter, fishes that had been partially eaten ; 
and as this occurs quite often in summer, I took it for 
granted that the offender — a turtle — was the same in each 
case. Led by this inference, I baited hooks and placed 
them in the deep holes of a large pond, and in several 
instances succeeded in catching specimens of the stinking 
or musk-turtle. 

Snappers, in the same way, have been caught during 
the severest cold weather, in the deep holes in ponds, and 
about large springs that discharge their waters on level 
groTmd. It would seem, therefore, that if the water re- 
mains above the freezing-point, these turtles continue 
in a fairly active state, even though they do not find any 
large amount of food. In such spring-holes, the grass 
remains green throughout winter ; a few frogs linger in 
the waters ; an occasional bittern haunts the spot ; pike, 
too, are not unusual, and the snapper therefore has com- 



274 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

pany, at least, and occasionally he makes a meal of some 
one of the hardy visitors which, like himself, brave the 
winter, and does not seek to avoid its rigors by a pro- 
tracted, torpid sleep in the mud. 

Of the series of ten species of turtles that I have men- 
tioned, some of them, it may be, are so sensitive to cold 
that they hibernate regularly, and for about one half of 
the year ; but in the case of the snapper, mud-turtle, and 
stinking or musk-turtle, the habit at best is neither gen- 
eral nor regular. And yet it is probable that these 
three species, though they do not hibernate regularly, yet 
do so when cut off from access to the atmosphere by the 
growth of thick ice ; for, while these turtles can stay 
under the water for a comparatively long time, yet, if all 
their other functions are active, respiration must neces- 
sarily be active also ; and it is questionable how long they 
can live without access to the air, notwithstanding the 
fact that, like the frogs, they can absorb sufficient air 
through their skins, and so remain beneath the surface 
for a long time, if the water be thoroughly aerated. In 
Agassiz's monograph on our turtles occurs the following 
sentence : " In mud and soft-shelled turtles, the lungs 
being much reduced in size and importance, by far the 
greater part of the respiration must be performed by 
the skin of the whole body, which is much thinner 
in these families than in other turtles; while, on the 
contrary, in. . . the Cistudo (box-tortoise) the powers 
of respiration are no doubt performed entirely by the 
lungs." 

In the case of skin-respiration by the frog, Professor 
Semper has stated, in his volume entitled " Animal Life," 
that "Milne-Edwards the elder showed long since that 
frogs, when prevented from coming to the surface, were 
able to live under water so long as they were not cut off 






SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 275 

from the possibility of obtaining food, and were freely sup- 
plied with fresh water. In such a case general skin-res- 
piration must necessarily take the place of lung-respira- 
tion." By experiment I have been able to determine 
that a snapper can remain twenty-one days beneath run- 
ning water without food, and yet not appear to have 
suffered ; although its appetite was perfectly wonderful 
when the creature was relieved from its confined and 
submerged quarters. 

Considering, then, the facts, that one of these species 
has been known to take a baited hook in midwinter, and 
that individuals of this same or another species have been 
found to eat of fishes that were entangled in a net set be- 
neath the ice, and bearing in mind that they have been 
found in quite an active state in shallow but open waters 
even in midwinter, it is safe to assert that certain of our 
turtles do not regularly hibernate from autumn until 
spring, as has been generally supposed ; the snappers, the 
musk-turtles, and the " mud-diggers," furnishing the 
prominent exceptions to the rule. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

uz gaunt's talk about turtles. 

" Christmas of '77 was a green one, you may remem- 
ber," remarked Uz, as he shook the ashes from his pipe. 
" It didn't need any hickory logs blazin' on the hearth, 
such as these," and he stirred the ashes and rearranged 
the wood on the andirons as he spoke of them. " The 
weather had been mild for a long time, and once I heard 
frogs singin'. Well, this kind of thing sort of came to a 
focus on Christmas day, which was warm even in the 
shade. The river was low, the meadows dry, and the 
crows as noisy as in April. I felt sort of restless like, 
and took a walk in the meadows. I left my gun home, 
and thought I'd just look 'round. Without thinking of 
them when I started out, I wandered over to your marshy 
meadow, and began pokin' about with my cane for snap- 
pers. You know I take kindly to a bowl of snapper-soup 
of my own fixin'." 

" Yes, I do that, and can run along neck-and-neck with 
you, when you're the cook." 

" Well, I followed the main ditch down, jumpin' from 
hassock to hassock, and kept probin' in the mud with 
my cane, when, after a bit, I felt something hard at the 
end of my stick. It wasn't a stone or a stump, I knew 
at once. There was a little tremble run up the stick to 
my hand that told me that much. A sort of shake, as 



UZ G AUNT'S TALK ABOUT TURTLES. 277 

though you hit an empty barrel, as near as I can tell 
you. I'd a turtle down in the mud, and concluded to 
bring it out into the daylight. There's more than one 
way to do this, but none of 'em is an easy job to get 
through with. I kept probin' 'round him, to try and 
make out where his head was, and then I could feel for 
his tail, and pull him out. Now this does very well for 
one of your common snappers, but didn't work so easy in 
this case. I could sort of feel that turtle all over the 
meadow. Wherever I put my cane down, I seemed to 
come to his back shell ; but after edgin' out a bit for some 
time I could make out the rim of it, and I tell you he was 
a whopper, accordin' to my probin'. That turtle seemed 
about as big 'round as a wash-tub, and I got regularly 
worked up about him. I wasn't in trim for huntin', but 
didn't care. I'd found a turtle that was worth havin', and 
I meant to have him. Probin' showed he was about 
three feet deep in the mud, but I made up my mind to 
locate his tail and then reach down for him. So I did, 
but it was no use. I felt about, and got one ugly scratch 
from a hind foot, but lie kept his tail out of reach, or 
hadn't any ; I didn't know which, then. After thinkin' 
a spell, I concluded I'd try to get a pry under him, and 
went for a fence-rail. It took me some time to get what 
I wanted, and when I got back that turtle had got out. 
I probed all 'round, but he'd moved. This rather took 
me down, but I kept up my hunt, and after a bit found 
he'd moved straight for the main ditch, and was tearin' 
up the mud on the bottom as he went. This was all 
that saved him for me, and I no sooner learned his 
whereabouts than I went for him in earnest. I ran the 
rail I had right under him, and tried to lift him up. 
Thunder and lightnin', boy, you might as well try to lift a 
steer. I disturbed him, though, and checked his course a 



278 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

bit. Jammin' the rail down again, I guess I hit his head, 
for it riled him, evidently, and he raised right up. His 
head and neck came up out of the sand, and I was for 
standin' back just then. If ever you saw a wicked eye, 
that turtle had one, and his head was as big as my fist. 
Stickin' his head out, though, gave me the knowledge I 
wanted. I knew how he laid in the mud, and I ran my 
rail down under him as far as I could. It kept him 
from divin' down, and I went right into the ditch to try 
and get a hold on his tail if I could. This I did, after 
f eelin' for it a bit, and no sooner had I got a good grip on 
it than the old fellow got free of the rail and commenced 
goin' deep into the mud. I tugged and he dug, and it 
was a clear case of ' pull Dick, pull devil ' between us. 
He was gettin' the better of me, though, for I was gettin' 
chilled in that water, and had nearly lost my hold, when 
the turtle gave an extra jerk, and if it hadn't been for 
the fence-rail I'd a lost him. I was pulled for'ard, but 
the rail was right in front, so I put one foot on it, to 
keep from sinkin' any deeper in the mire. This bracin' 
gave me the advantage now, and I put all my strength to 
it. The turtle came a little, and I seemed to gain strength. 
I tugged and tugged with all my might, and presently 
his hind feet showed. You see, he hadn't firm enough 
mud to hold on to. I backed slowly across the ditch 
when I got him in open water, and got a fair footin' on 
the ditch-bank at last. Still, I wasn't out of the woods by 
a long shot. That turtle weighed close onto seventy 
pounds, and I'd no means of handlin' him. Chilled 
through, with both hands needed to hold him, and in the 
middle of the mucky meadow, all that was left me was 
to try and drag him to the high, smooth meadows. It 
was a tough job, I tell you. I had to walk backward, 
and he pulled against me like a frightened horse. I 



UZ GAUNT '8 TALK ABOUT TURTLES, 279 

gained a little, slowly, and after a bit got on the high 
ground. Then I felt more at ease and took a rest. I 
couldn't take him home, of course, in the same fashion, 
but I had a chance to let him loose, and rest my hands. 
How I looked 'round for a bit of rope to bridle him ! It 
was no use, though, and after all I was likely to lose him 
altogether. After a minute's thinkin', it occurred to me 
I'd make a hobble out of my shirt and then slip home 
lively for the right sort of tackle. I wasn't long in get- 
tin' the shirt off, and I twisted it into a sort of rope and 
hobbled him with it. It was a desperate, odd-lookin' tur- 
tle when I got through, and I laughed at him a bit as I 
turned toward the house. You see, I left him on his 
back, and his legs bound so he couldn't use 'em to turn 
over. I skipped pretty lively, I tell you, for that mile or 
so twixt me and home, and was in a good glow when I 
got in. Hettie looked kind o' scared when she saw me, 
but I put her mind to rest in two words, and soon was on 
my way back. A bit of rope and my sheath-knife was 
all I needed. I skipped over the fields pretty lively, and 
was soon again in sight. Now, I don't think it was an 
hour, by some minutes, before I was back on the high 
meadow, but, by gracious ! it don't take long for scenes 
to change in natur' any more than it does in a theatre. 
Of all queer sights, that was the funniest I saw when I 
got back. The turtle had got half free of my old red 
shirt, and was pawin' the air like mad, tryin' to get on 
his feet again. I could see that much a long way off, and 
put on extra speed ; but when I was about fifty yards off 
I stopped short. There was that turtle wrapped in my 
shirt, and a pesky skunk sort of standin' guard over him. 
Now, I hate skunks. They don't pay to trap, and they 
rob my hen-roost every winter. I was afraid to frighten 
him, too, for fear he'd spoil my snapper, and I wanted 



280 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

the value of a shirt out of the turtle, if nothin' more. I 
walked a bit nearer, to make sure of how matters stood, 
and it was clear as day, the skunk thought he had a good 
thing of it, if he could only kill that snapper. I thought 
the same way, and didn't want to be bettered by a pesky 
skunk. I made up my mind to jockey about it, a little ; 
and so, first, heaved a stone at the critter. It gave me a 
look and started on a slow trot, but it was all up with me, 
sure enough. He shook that thunderin' old brush right 
at the turtle and well ! if he didn't sicken the snap- 
per, he did me, that's certain. I stood the racket a bit, 
though, and tried to move the snapper, but it was no use ; 
I couldn't keep at it long enough to do anything, and 
don't believe it would have amounted to much any- 
how. I got a stick and put the snapper on his feet, as 
well as I could, without touchin' him, and he waddled 
off for the mucky meadow, with most of my shirt still 
stickin' to him, and plunged into the ditch as soon as he 
could." 

"So you lost the turtle after all," I remarked in a 
low tone, not feeling sure I had heard the last of the 
story. 

" No I didn't either," Uz replied quickly. " Don't set 
me down for such a fool as that. I knew well enough 
the turtle wouldn't wander far, so I kept him in mind, 
and the next April I went out in proper trim and 
hunted him up. I found him after two days' huntin', 
when I got a dozen big ones besides, but he was the king 
of the lot. He couldn't turn 'round in a wash-tub, and 
weighed somethin' over seventy pounds. I looked all 
over him for some sign of my shirt, but there wasn't a 
thread left." 

" How old do you suppose he was ? " I asked, when 
Uz had concluded his story. 



UZ GAUNT' S TALK ABOUT TURTLES. 281 

"I'm not sure I can say, but he was no chicken, that's 
certain." 

" According to Professor Agassiz, a turtle a foot long 
is close to fifty years old," I replied. 

" Fifty years old ! Then my big snapper came out of 
the ark, I guess," remarked Uz. 



CHAPTEK XXXI. 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 



Were this a fitting opportunity, I should be glad 
to give in detail the scores of marvelous snake-stories 
which from time to time have been related in my hear- 
ing, or which I have clipped from newspapers. These 
stories have not come solely from ignorant and supersti- 
tious people, but they have been told fully as often by 
those who were well informed on other subjects, and who 
would be considered people of average intelligence and 
education. 

The prevalent absurd accounts of our common snakes 
show what an amount of ignorance prevails concerning a 
class of animals whose undoubted merits should be prop- 
erly understood and appreciated. 

My aim, therefore, in referring to them, is to break 
down, if possible, long-established prejudices. It is, per- 
haps, a hopeless task, a kicking against the pricks, but I 
shall not desist. 

Unfortunately for the snakes, and for ourselves too, 
we grow up so imbued with unjust suspicions of all 
creeping things that, in later years, but few of us seem 
disposed to listen to the plain truth concerning the habits 
and capabilities of these most interesting and generally 
very useful animals. 

Because one serpent is very dangerous, and capable of 
inflicting deadly wounds, it does not follow that all ser- 



8E0ET STUDIES OF SNAKES. 283 

pents are to be shunned. I certainly have no desire to 
encounter a tiger, but I do not therefore hesitate to play 
with a kitten ; and yet the same style of reasoning which 
dooms the harmless snake would, if carried out, justify 
the indiscriminate slaughter of every animal of the cat 
kind. 

In New Jersey we have two species of serpents — 
the rattlesnake and copper-head — the bite of either of 
which is usually regarded as fatal. These are found only 
in limited localities, and, even there, the danger to be 
apprehended from them is more apparent than real. As 
neither of them comes within the range of my rambles, 
there is no reason to fear them ; so why should I dread 
the harmless serpents that may chance to cross my path ? 
Rather, since they can do no harm, let me seek them out 
and strive to learn what they have to teach. 

Of the nine or ten species of serpents that are found 
here, some are formidable in appearance and readily re- 
sent interference. "What they do, however, is in self- 
defense, as they are never the attacking party. Of 
course, they will dart their pretty forked tongues ; will 
hiss, and even snap at you ; but there it ends. Their bite 
is less harmful than the sting of a mosquito, though the 
fact is by no means generally recognized and acted upon. 
What if a full-grown black-snake, when trod on, does 
wrap a coil or two about your legs % It can only result 
in injury to the snake, and all newspaper stories as to 
the serious harm they do to young children, by coiling 
about them, may be dismissed as fables. Perhaps a great 
part of the unjust suspicion that attaches to snakes may 
be ascribed to the stories of their fierceness related by 
early travelers. Thus, Campanius, in his " History of New 
Sweden," describes the rattlesnake as follows : " There 
is here, also, a large and horrible serpent which is called 



284: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

a rattlesnake. It has a head like that of a dog, and can 
bite off a man's leg as clear as if it had been hewn down 
with an axe." Snch a description of any one of our ser- 
pents is enough to make a person timid and suspicious of 
all our snakes, nor can it be wondered at. Kalm, too, 
magnified the fierceness, size, and courage of our serpents, 
and particularly the black-snakes. Much of that which 
he relates, be it understood, never happened. Among 
other impossible occurrences he tells the following " snake- 
story," which it would be hard to match, even in these 
days : " During my stay in New York, Dr. Colden told 
me that, in the spring, 1748, he had several workmen at 
his country-seat, and among them one lately arrived from 
Europe, who of course knew very little of the qualities 
of the Black-Snake. The other workmen seeing a great 
Black-Snake . . . engaged the new comer to go and 
kill it, which he intended to do with a little stick. But 
on approaching the place . . . the male (snake) in great 
wrath leaves his pleasure to pursue the fellow with 
amazing swiftness ; he little expected such courage in the 
snake, and flinging away his stick, began to run as fast 
as he was able. The snake pursued him, overtook him, 
and twisting several times round his feet, threw him 
down, and frightened him almost out of his senses ; he 
could not get rid of the snake till he took a knife and 
cut it through in two or three places. The other work- 
men were rejoiced at this sight, and laughed at it, with- 
out offering to help their companion." 

It will be observed that our author does not assert 
that all this happened within his personal knowledge, but, 
on the contrary, it is an instance of a person telling some 
one else what a third person saw ; and this is usually the 
case with snake-stories. 

Now, so far as the story of the fierceness of black- 



SHORT STUDIES OF SFAKES. 285 

snakes being more marked in spring than at other times 
is concerned, the truth is, that this is the time of year 
when they are particularly sluggish. When disturbed in 
their dreams, on a bright spring morning, they will often 
remain rigid, and apparently feign death, rather than make 
an effort to escape or to simulate a courage which they 
do not possess, in order to frighten and drive you away. 
It is but fair, however, to our author to add that his 
own experience scarcely agreed with the stories that were 
told him, as will be seen by the following extract : " I 
can not well doubt of this — the fierceness of the black- 
snakes when mated — as I have heard it said by numbers 
of creditable people ; but I could never succeed in provok- 
ing them. I ran always away on perceiving it, or flung 
something at it, and then took to my heels, but I could 
never bring the snakes to pursue me ; I know not for 
what reason they shunned me, unless they took me for 
an awful seducer." 

The reason is plain enough. Kalm desired to know 
the truth, and took the experimental way of learning it. 
His knowledge of the snakes was gained by familiar, out- 
of-doors intercourse with them, and it has stood the test 
of time. All that was needed, when he wrote, was the 
moral courage to say to the narrators of the marvelous 
stories, " You are mistaken " ; or perhaps, more wisely, 
he might have kept silent. The most conscientious man, 
if afraid of snakes, can not tell the truth about them ; 
and even in the case of the truly poisonous species, it is 
well to remember that " the devil is not so black as he is 
painted." 

Although the rattlesnake does not now frequent this 
neighborhood, yet it was probably not uncommon here 
years ago. I have not, however, been able to find in any 



286 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of the local histories any record of one having been seen 
here. Perhaps the black-snakes, which until recently 
were so numerous, succeeded in exterminating them, for 
the two are deadly enemies. That this might readily 
have been the case is very probable, particularly if such 
occurrences as the following were ever very common : 

"In the middle of the road lay an ordinary black- 
snake and quite a large rattlesnake, eying one another 
fiercely, both ready for an attack. The party stood mo- 
tionless to see the battle take place ; but he waited long, 
and still the combatants did not move. At length, tired 
of watching, he slightly shook the bar of the fence, which 
caused the rattlesnake to look from its opponent to him- 
self. Instantly, the black-snake sprang on the other, 
twisted itself tightly around its neck, and then its body, 
and glided off, and there lay the rattlesnake, dead. The 
victim, we all know, was a powerful foe, the victor as 
harmless a snake as there is in the land." 

I have several clippings from newspapers, recording 
the capture of veritable copper-heads near here, but as the 
harmless hog-nose snake and the gentle calico-snake have 
often been mistaken for this venomous species, I am 
inclined to look upon all such reports as cases of mistaken 
identity. It would not please me to know that at any 
time I might possibly chance upon one, but as I never 
have in all these years been so unfortunate, I must con- 
tinue to think that there is but little reason to fear them. 
Harmless snakes have repeatedly been brought to me as 
genuine copper-heads, and, to the horror of my friends, 
I have let these supposed dreaded serpents bite me, when 
I succeeded in provoking them sufficiently to do so; but 
even this proof of their harmlessness was not always satis- 
factory. 

I purposely omit any discussion of the often-asked 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 287 

question, Do snakes swallow their young ? I have never 
seen them do so, and here ends my knowledge of the 
matter. I have, therefore, only to add that as -many 
snakes feed upon small snakes, and occasionally have two 
or three at once in their stomachs ; and further, that as 
some species are ovoviviparous, or hatch their young 
within their bodies, thus offering, occasionally, the specta- 
cle of a large female snake with twenty to thirty small 
snakes within it, it is possible that some such occurrence 
may have given rise to the stories we so often hear of 
snakes apparently swallowing their young in order to pro- 
tect them from harm. It is thought not to be impossible, 
though improbable, that such a habit should be common 
to any species. 

In the course of my rambles I have found a great 
many snakes, of all sizes, colors, and, I may add, disposi- 
tions. They are all well known to herpetologists, for a 
long and not always handsome name has been given to 
each variety. They are also well known in an anatomi- 
cal point of view, though their habits, haunts, and merits 
have not been very closely studied. It would seem that, 
in most cases, to drop the squirming creature into alcohol, 
and tack a label on the bottle, was all that the naturalist 
desired to do. To know where a snake came from, and 
its scientific name, is, so far as it goes, very useful knowl- 
edge ; but I would like to know what the snakes did be- 
fore their capture. 

Of the ten well-marked species that may be found 
within half a mile of my front door, probably the most 
abundant is the hog-nose snake, known to my neighbors 
by a variety of names, though none is so good as the one 
mentioned. " Adder," " flat-head," " viper," and a dozen 
other misnomers are freely used ; " flat-head " being, 



288 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

perhaps, a fairly good name, as the habit indicated by this 
name is most marked in this species. 

In the entire range of animal life I know of no creat- 
ure so thoroughly harmless as this snake ; yet, as it flattens 
its head, hisses loudly, springs menacingly, and snaps 
fiercely, it is credited by many with all the venom of the 
rattlesnake, which, by the way, it quite closely resembles 
in many ways. 

As an object of study it presents much that is of 
peculiar interest. Without fangs, or even teeth of suffi- 
cient length to produce a wound beyond a mere pin- 
prick, it presents the outward appearance and has the 
pose and movement of the venomous serpents generally. 
Wholly unable to inflict the slightest injury, it has always 
puzzled me to understand why it should not, like all our 
other snakes, seek safety in flight. May we hold that it 
realizes the full meaning of the peculiar powers of the 
venomous serpent it mimics so admirably, and trusts to its 
being mistaken for a rattlesnake ? Indeed, this mimicry 
has been perfect, in some instances that I have witnessed, 
inasmuch as the tail of the snake was rapidly vibrated 
against dead leaves, and so produced a sound that was 
strikingly similar to that of the rattlesnake. This simi- 
larity was, of course, accidental, as it was by mere chance 
that dry leaves were lying about; but at various other 
times I have noticed that the tail was held in the same 
position and vibrated in precisely the same manner as 
that of the rattlesnake. In these instances I thought I 
detected a faint whirring sound, or a buzzing, but on this 
point I am not positive. 

Mimicry, on the part of snakes, is a ready way of ex- 
plaining some of their habits ; but even when accepted, 
it remains to be shown how it originated. Is there any 
evidence that in former times the hog-nose snake and 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 289 

rattlesnake were intimately associated ? I can find none, 
and certainly at present the two species are not found 
together, not being frequenters of the same kind of locali- 
ties. The hog-nose snake prefers open, sandy fields; 
the rattlesnake, rocks, and at all times a forest-growth, 
or, at least, a dense undergrowth. I have endeavored 
in vain to detect something in their habits, haunts, and 
anatomy that could throw light upon these questions, but, 
as yet, all in vain; I can only say that the snake is in 
appearance a rattler, but that it has neither the rattles 
nor the fangs. A veritable impostor is he, sailing under 
false colors throughout his whole life. 

Of all our serpents, the hog-nose is, by far, the most 
sluggish in its movements. So slow is it, that it can be 
easily overtaken, if it should attempt to escape, which it 
rarely does. I have found them partial to loose, sandy 
soils, as in cultivated fields, in which they burrow with 
all the facility of a mole. They burrow, I am led to be- 
lieve, only to a shallow depth, and think it is in search of 
earth worms and insect larvae, and not merely for the sake 
of shelter. In several instances, where I have detected 
them coming out of the ground, I have found in their 
stomachs masses of semi-digested animal matter which 
were believed to be the remains of earth-worms and in- 
sect larvse. This fact should give the snake a claim to 
protection from the farmer, and this is now set up for 
them, though with little or no hope that my interposi- 
tion in their behalf will result in any permanent benefit. 

In the month of May I have frequently found their 
eggs, in considerable numbers, a few inches below the 
surface ; and early in July I once found a family of 
seventeen very small and apparently just hatched young. 
In this instance no old snakes were seen. Young as these 
little ones were, and apparently with quite defective 

13 



290 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



vision, they resented all interference, and snapped and 
hissed precisely as an older snake would do. Even the 
head and neck were distinctly flattened. 

While sensitive, as all snakes are, to cold, these hog- 
nose serpents appear to have greater powers of endurance 
than any of the other species that are found in this vicin- 
ity. They are, I think, the first to make their appearance 
in spring, and the latest to go into winter-quarters. These 
quarters are usually burrows of such depth and in such 
a position as to be beyond the reach of frost, and in them 
many individuals are congregated. Occasionally differ- 
ent species of snakes are associated in these subterranean 
retreats, three or four being often coiled together in an 
almost globular mass. At such times they are quite 
inert, and do not revive until exposed to a considerable 
warmth for several hours. 

An uncommon variety of this species of snake is 
nearly or quite black, and, being somewhat more vicious 
in appearance, it has the reputation of being even more 
dangerous than its mottled black and yellow companions. 
All the black specimens that I have seen have been very 
large, and otherwise seemed to be old, and it is my belief 
that they are merely aged individuals, and not a variety 
or sub-species. 

Kalm says of the serpents found in New Jersey : " The 
Battle-snake, Horned Snakes, red-bellied, green, and other 
poisonous Snakes, against whose bites there is frequently 
no remedy, are in great plenty here." This statement is 
worthy of a moment's consideration. It is correct so far 
as the poisonous character of the rattlesnake's bite is con- 
cerned ; but what of the other species he mentions ? 
Possibly his " horned snake" is the hog-nosed serpent 
about which I have been writing ; or, if not, it may be 
the mythical hoop-snake to which he refers — a snake that 






SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 291 

hundreds of people are ever ready to affirm they have 
occasionally seen, and by which they have been chased ; 
but which, strangely enough, has never fallen into the 
hands of a naturalist. The "red-bellied" snake men- 
tioned by Kalm may be any one of three or more species 
that have a red or ruddy belly. I suppose, however, that 
he refers to our common water-snake, a species that has 
afforded me much entertainment while watching it in its 
chosen haunts. 

Kalm, it will be noticed, believed it to be a poisonous 
species. This, of course, arose from simple hearsay, as 
he evidently was too prudent to test the matter personally. 
Even at present it is generally supposed to be venomous, 
although its harmless nature has been noted by every 
herpetologist. If facts of this character, embodying as 
they do much useful knowledge, were taught in our pub- 
lic schools, as they ought to be, we should be spared much 
nonsense. Only the other day I read in a local news- 
paper that "a large, poisonous water-adder, measuring 
over seven feet, was killed near the mill-pond. It is 
supposed to have bitten several cows." Here are two 
errors, to call them by no harsher name, to start with. 
In the first place, the snake is not poisonous ; and in the 
second, no one of them ever grew to be seven feet in 
length. As to biting the cows, that is not improbable ; 
but the wounds inflicted were not so serious as the bites 
of the blood-thirsty green flies that worry our horses and 
cattle throughout the summer months. 

The common water-snake is strictly an aquatic species ; 
not that it can not and does not freely leave the water, for 
this it frequently does, though the shallow, weedy brooks, 
the deep mill-ponds, and even the river itself, are, essen- 
tially, its homes. In such localities, it is the active, alert, 
lithesome serpent that I never tire of watching. 



292 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

These snakes, if not venomous, are vicious, I admit, 
and do not hesitate to bite, if irritated ; but the result is 
like the prick of a pin. I have often teased them, to 
see how hard they could bite, and found that they seldom 
brought blood, and their teeth never remained in the 
skin of my arm or leg. 

I have noticed that the water-snake, in this neighbor- 
hood, is partial to still waters of considerable depth, and 
seldom frequents streams that have not a bottom of 
deep, soft mud, in which to take refuge when pursued, 
and in which it buries itself deeply during the winter. 
While fond of sunning itself on the banks of streams, it 
also spends much time on the mud. Occasionally, when 
cautiously approached, it will move off in such a gentle 
manner as to leave the imprint of its body on the muddy 
bed where it had been resting. Unlike all others of our 
snakes, this one does not require constant access to the 
atmosphere, but can live for days in well-aerated water, 
as I have determined by repeated experiments.* 

While, usually, the water-snake, in passing from the 
land to the water, simply glides from the shore to its 
proper home directly, I have found that, at times, it 
would pass through burrowings near the shore, and seek 
the water by a short subterranean passage. Such burrow- 
ings or passages are not made by the snake, I am positive, 
but are the work of star-nosed moles, shrews, and, in some 
cases, of cray-fish. That such routes should be chosen by 
the snakes is not readily explained, for I find that the 
snakes do not linger in them, but pass directly through 
and into the mud beneath. To be sure, if the creature 
is escaping from an enemy, real or supposed, this means 
is more effectual than a direct plunge into the water, as 
the snake reaches the bed of the stream, and is wholly 
out of sight, beneath the mud. But is a water-snake 



SHORT STUDIES OF SXAEES. 293 

sufficiently intelligent to warrant us in accepting this as 
an explanation ? During the summer this snake delights 
in sunning itself on a mat of dead grass, which it appears 
to collect for the purpose of making a more comfortable 
bed than the growing grass alone would afford. Often, 
well coated with mud, they crawl from the bed of the 
stream to these spots, and there remain a long while, 
tightly coiled and, I suppose, asleep. The adhering mud, 
now exposed to the sun, quickly dries and falls off, and 
in time the grass beds become completely coyered with a 
fine dust, often an inch or more in depth. 

At other times these snakes, well coated with mud, 
go directly from the water to one of the subterranean 
passages, and, passing down the narrow entrance, they 
leaye a portion of the adherent mud as a rim about 
the opening. "When sun-dried, such ring-like eleyations 
closely resemble the curious "mud chimneys'' of the 
cray-fish ; and the latter, by many people, are considered 
as the work of water-snakes. Time and again I haye 
been told that the cray-fishes' mud-works were " snake- 
holes," and I am not surprised that such an impression is 
common, for it must be remembered that water-snakes do 
occasionally make a similar ring of mud about holes in 
the mud-banks of creeks and ditches ; and again, who has 
ever seen a cray-fish building his "chimney," ring after 
ring, until it reaches several inches in height i 

In the water the movements of this snake are as agile 
as those of the most active fish, and their food consists 
very largely of minnows. These they catch by a sudden 
dart through a school of them, seldom failing to seize 
one of the number. It has seemed to me, however, that 
this was rather a hap-hazard proceeding, as the snake did 
not appear to single out any particular fish, but merely 
opened its mouth and left the rest to luck. Often fishes 



294 BAUBLES ABOUT ROME. 

of a large size are seized in this manner and dragged to the 
shore, when, after dying from exposure to the atmosphere, 
they are again taken to the water, buried in the mud, and 
devoured by the snake at its leisure. Frogs, too, form a 
not inconsiderable part of their food, which I am in- 
clined to think is sought as well on land as in the water, 
though I have never found them so engaged. Nor have 
I ever discovered any evidence that they preyed upon 
mice — the principal food of land-snakes — in the many 
dissections that I have made. 

There is another species of water-snake which I have 
occasionally seen in our creeks and ditches — seen it swim- 
ming by, and that is all. 

Occasionally, late in April and throughout the month 
of May, several small species of snakes (collectively called 
" garter-snakes " by the country people) may be seen in 
the shallow waters of our ditches. There is a family 
likeness running through the series, and it is often diffi- 
cult to identify them. One of the prettiest and most 
active of these is called De Kay's little brown snake. It 
is fully as active as the foregoing when in the water, and 
far more agile and rapid in its movements when on land. 
My last opportunity of observing them was in May, 1881, 
when I found three of them on the bank of a shallow 
ditch, each occupied in slowly swallowing a little frog or 
"peeper." Frequent observations, made some years ago, 
convince me that the several species of grasshoppers con- 
stitute their principal food-supply in summer. 

Like the true water-snakes, they are excellent fishers, 
and, gliding through the shallow waters with marvelous 
celerity, they catch minnows and young pike in large num- 
bers. Late in the summer I find that they retire to the 
upland woods, where they are often seen in sunny nooks, 






SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 295 

coiled up on beds of dry, dead leaves ; and throughout 
September and later I have seldom found them in the 
ditches and surrounding meadows, which seem to be their 
haunts in spring and early summer. 

This little brown snake is readily tamed, and can be 
taught to take flies from the fingers. Indeed, I think 
they recognize those who are accustomed to feed or handle 
them. 

Another snake, perhaps less common than the fore- 
going, but more conspicuous from its greater size and 
brilliant markings, is the ribbon-snake, or " swift garter." 
Of all our serpents, this is my favorite. For hours I 
have played with them, and never knew one to exhibit 
any ill-temper, even when teased persistently. While 
perfectly at home in the water, this serpent can not be 
considered as aquatic or even semi-aquatic. Far more 
frequently I have found them in the high and dry woods, 
not always creeping or darting over the dead leaves, but 
in trees and bushes, several feet from the ground, where 
they seem to be quite at home, twisting and turning amid 
the tangled branches of the stunted oaks as freely as if 
on smooth ground. Just what they were seeking in such 
situations I could never determine, for I never saw them 
robbing birds' nests nor peering into squirrels' homes in 
the hollow trees. Tree-toads, I know, they occasionally 
capture, but these are not sufficiently abundant to induce 
a snake to spend much time in hunting for them. 

It is eminently true of this snake, and I believe it is 
equally so of all our smaller snakes, that they prey very 
largely upon insects. I do not suppose that the aggre- 
gate of insect-life thus destroyed is very large, for these 
animals, as a class, are not voracious feeders. Very often 
a mouse serves them as a meal, and satisfies their hunger 



296 B AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

for a week or more. It is probable, however, that the 
number of mice and young squirrels destroyed by snakes 
would be much greater if there were no insects for them 
to feed upon. The larger grasshoppers, black crickets, 
and even beetles, I have often found in the stomachs of 
all our smaller upland snakes. 

Another very common species is the true garter-snake. 
In the course of a summer more of these garter-snakes 
are seen than of individuals of all our other species to- 
gether. This arises from the fact, in part, that they are 
a social snake, and a dozen or more will often wander 
about a chosen haunt in company. I never find one but 
I instinctively look about for its companions. They are 
quite cunning, and, when hard pressed, exhibit considera- 
ble ingenuity in their efforts to escape. They are also, at 
times, very irritable, and when cornered they often show 
fight as promptly as the hog-nose snakes. They can inflate 
their bodies, slightly elevate the scales on their backs, and 
thus present a somewhat formidable appearance. Their 
needle-like teeth are also brought into play, and with a 
great show of courage they bite viciously and even hold 
on with some persistence. There, however, it ends. 

The eggs of this garter-snake, as well as those of the 
preceding, are deposited in the loose, sandy soil of the 
recently-plowed fields. I have found none earlier than 
May 9th, and once on July 13th I found a complement 
of seventeen, within a day or two of hatching. In every 
instance they were in fields newly plowed and free of all 
vegetation. The depth at which they were placed varied 
from three to seven inches. 

It is not a little curious that, considering the large 
numbers of eggs that are to be found in the earlier part 
of summer, so few very small snakes are to be seen. I 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 297 

have never come across one less than four inches in 
length, except in the cases of the brood of hog-nose 
snakes mentioned above, and of those which I have 
ushered into day by unceremoniously breaking the egg 
before the occupants were quite ready to emerge, 

Even larger snakes, those measuring from six to ten 
inches in length, are by no means common. This may be 
due to the fact that they are surrounded by enemies 
which make sad havoc with their numbers, or possibly 
some of our smaller mammals may feast upon the eggs. 
Precisely what these enemies are I can not determine, 
though I am sure of their existence. More than once I 
have seen skunks rooting in newly-plowed ground, and 
at the time it occurred to me that they were probably 
searching for turtles' or snakes' eggs. Those of the tur- 
tle would largely escape detection, if an animal searching 
for them were guided by scent alone, as they are more 
deeply buried, and, except by the snappers, care is taken 
in obliterating all trace of the locality. In the case of 
the snakes, however, no such care is exercised ; and their 
eggs are buried in such a shiftless manner that a hard 
rain often exposes them to full view. 

While it sometimes happens, in early spring, that 
snakes are met with in such numbers and so closely as- 
sociated as to appear as one object with innumerable 
heads, I have never seen anything similar to the bundles 
or balls of snakes mentioned by some observers. True, 
I once saw what I believe to have been fully fifty snakes, 
lying " all in a heap," but when I approached them, the 
individuality of each became apparent, as they scampered 
off in every direction, regardless of their neighbors' move- 
ments. A veritable bundle of snakes has been described 
in the "American Naturalist" for March, 1880, as fol- 
lows: "The statements made by Humboldt, as to the 



298 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

piles of snakes lie saw in Guiana, can be verified here in 
our Northern woods and swamps. I personally had the 
pleasure of observing it twice, both times very early in 
spring, and in localities which could be called wilderness. 
I first saw such a bundle of snakes in the neighborhood 
of Ilchester, Howard County, Maryland, on the stony 
bank of the Patapsco River, heaped together on a rock 
and between big stones. It was a very warm and sunny 
location, where a human being would scarcely disturb 
them. I reasoned that the warmth and silence of that 
secluded place brought them together. Some hundreds 
of them could be counted, and all of them I found in a 
lively state of humor, hissing at me with threatening 
glances, with combined forces, and with such a persistency 
that stones thrown upon them could not stop them, nor 
alter the position of a single animal. They would make 
the proper movements and the stone would roll off. All 
the snakes in this lump were common (garter) snakes. . . . 
The second time I noticed a ball of black-snakes rolling 
slowly down a steep and stony hill-side on the bank of 
the same river." 

Although so much was said of the black-snake, when 
speaking of serpents as a class, there are yet points in its 
habits that deserve attention. Perhaps no one of our 
serpents is more thoroughly dreaded, and with less reason. 
It is harmless in every sense of the term, and yet in spite 
of this fact, and of the benefits which it confers upon the 
farmer, these most useful serpents are becoming yearly 
less numerous. 

Perhaps the most interesting feature in the history of 
the black-snake is the power of " charming " a bird or 
small mammal, which it is supposed to possess. This act 
is said to consist in exerting, by mere glance of the eye, 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 299 

such influence over the bird or mammal as ultimately to 
deprive it of all power of locomotion. I must confess 
that I am somewhat skeptical on this point, although I 
have on several occasions witnessed cases of such " charm- 
ing," i. e., cases where small birds were literally fright- 
ened to death by the snakes. On careful examination, 
however, I found that the snake was suspiciously near the 
nest of the victim. The bird evidently experienced a 
struggle between the impulse to defend its nest and the 
desire to escape a dreaded foe ; and this is, I think, the 
explanation of its short flights and quick returns, as 
though held by a short string. A victim to these oppos- 
ing emotions, the bird finally became exhausted and fell 
to the ground within reach of the snake. Once I caught 
such an exhausted bird and found that it was simply 
worn out. After a half hour's rest, it flew away without 
so much as saying " thank you." Further, I believe this 
" charming " can only occur among some of our timid 
birds, like the chipping-sparrow, summer-warbler, and 
others. The biggest black-snake that ever crawled could 
no more scare a common wren, than could a frog in a 
spring " charm " you. Detailed accounts of such things 
have, I know, been frequently published, and no doubt 
they were thought to be true ; but in the cases witnessed 
by me, a much simpler explanation can be found in the 
fact that the snake, instead of exerting any occult power, 
simply devoured the exhausted bird that came within its 
reach. 

Kalm gives a detailed account of the fascination ex- 
ercised by the rattlesnake over squirrels, and incidentally 
tells us that the same power is possessed by the black- 
snake. The translator of the volumes, however, sees 
nothing remarkable about the habit, and suggests a very 
reasonable explanation of the fact. 



300 BAUBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Perhaps snakes do charm birds, as is popularly sup- 
posed — but I don't believe it ! 

Thus far, I have never been able to determine the 
maximum length to which a black-snake may grow. 
Years ago, I started a discussion upon this point in a 
weekly paper, but soon had occasion to regret my temeri- 
ty. The stories that were told were beyond the lim- 
its of all possibility, and, though gravely assured that 
black-snakes ten feet long had not only been killed but 
actually measured, I am free to confess that I don't 
believe it ! 

In regard to the length of snakes generally, it is safe 
to say that, with timid people, a great deal depends upon 
the direction in which the snake was moving at the time 
it was seen. As my observing old friend Uz Gaunt once 
said to me, " When snakes come towards folks, every foot 
looks a yard long." 

Within the bounds of my usual rambles I have never 
but the once chanced upon that exquisite creature, the 
green or summer snake. The locality is not, I suppose, 
to their liking, though I sincerely wish that it was. 

The one specimen that I saw was captured and kept 
alive for several months. It became very tame, and evi- 
dently recognized me. Although allowed considerable 
liberty, it did not seem to be very active during the day, 
but was restless in the evening. It seemed to be more 
sensitive to cold than any other of our snakes, and re- 
mained under its little blanket when the day was rainy, 
or a strong east wind prevailed. It fed upon flies, which 
it would take from my hand, seizing them very leisurely, 
and swallowing them deliberately. There was nothing 
of the snap and gulp of a salamander or toad about the 
process. When, however, the snake went fly-hunting on 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 301 

its own account, there was a very different state of affairs. 
There was still great deliberation, but only until the mo- 
ment for action arrived, and then with a snap the fly was 
gone. 

Occasionally this pet snake would creep among a 
number of pots of flowers, and coil about the green 
branches. At such times, it would frequently extend 
some three or four inches of its body outward and beyond 
any support, and thus remain as rigid and apparently 
lifeless as a twig. This, probably, was a habit common to 
the snake when free, but why it should be indulged in 
under such changed surroundings I can not imagine. 
Certainly, it was not for the sake of seizing its food, for I 
noticed that the snake would assume this position after a 
hearty meal, and it did not ordinarily assume it when 
asleep. In its proper home, such a habit on the part of a 
small snake of this color would render it, for the time, 
very secure against such enemies as were guided only by 
sight. Even when standing very near the rose-bush upon 
which my pet rested, I found it, when in this position, a 
very inconspicuous object. 

A very common species, and one that is found over 
the whole United States, east of the Mississippi River, is 
the handsome ring-snake. In my immediate neighbor- 
hood, however, they are not often seen. This, I believe, 
arises more from the care with which they conceal them- 
selves than from their scarcity. Being naturally very 
timid, they are ever on the alert, and, hearing an ap- 
proaching footstep long before there is any chance of see- 
ing them, they scuttle away and burrow beneath the dead 
leaves, or seek a hidden recess in some half -rotten log. A 
favorite locality with them is beneath the loose bark of a 
fallen tree. Here they not only find shelter, but an 
abundance of food, as they feed largely upon insect larvae 



302 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

and the pupae of the large black ants that have their 
nests in rotten wood. 

When captured they offer no resistance, and become 
apparently reconciled at once to their loss of freedom. 
They are not of a mild disposition, but quite the contrary, 
when placed in limited quarters with other snakes. Weak 
and timid as they are, their distaste for such company 
rouses in them all the energy they possess, and without 
hesitation they try to drive off the intruders, even if 
twice their size and strength. At such times, too, the 
peculiar, pungent odor belonging to them is particularly 
noticeable, and I have thought that probably this dis- 
agreeable scent was exceedingly offensive to other snakes, 
and was therefore one of the means of defense that they 
possess. 

The actions of the ring-snake, when placed with other 
species, has further led me to believe that, notwithstand- 
ing their offensive smell, the larger snakes occasionally 
attack and devour these little fellows ; but I have never 
been fortunate enough to prove this by witnessing an at- 
tack on the part of a large snake, nor have I ever found 
the remains of this snake in the stomach of another. 

Another one of our snakes which, from its large size 
and brilliant markings, is a most attractive feature of dry, 
upland woods, is the spotted adder, which has been given, 
strangely enough, the unusual name of " thunder-and- 
lightning snake." Beyond darting its forked tongue, it 
never even offers to resent molestation, except under cer- 
tain circumstances to which reference will shortly be 
made. 

A few words in regard to serpents' tongues. They 
are narrow, cylindrical, and forked. When the snake is 
at all disturbed, the tongue is darted out with great rapid- 
ity, and this gives the animal a threatening appearance. 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 303 

There the matter ends. The tongue, of itself, is as harm- 
less as so much thistle-down, and the creature uses it 
principally, if not wholly, in feeling its way along-; for a 
snake's eyes are so placed that it can not see directly in 
front of it. Notwithstanding this fact, I find the impres- 
sion common, even among educated people, that the tongue 
of a snake is a veritable sting, and as certain to produce a 
wound as that of a hornet or bee. It signifies nothing 
that no one has ever been thus stung. These well-in- 
formed people insist that they know that snakes' tongues 
are stings, and so they keep clear of them. 

To return to the spotted adder. This snake, when 
found in the woods coiled upon a heap of dead leaves, 
will often closely imitate the peculiar rattle of the rattle- 
snake, by vibrating the tail with great rapidity, and in 
such a manner as to strike the leaves beneath it. I have 
already called attention to this mimicry of the rattlesnake 
on the part of the hog-nose snake. There it was, I 
thought, a case of accidental imitation, the leaves beneath 
the snake being unintentionally struck by the vibrating 
tail. However this may be, my impression of this act 
on the part of the spotted adder is that the noise is pro- 
duced intentionally. Of course, I do not mean to say 
that it is so far intentional as to be a studied imitation of 
the sound made by the rattlesnake, that being a point 
that can not be ascertained, and it would be crediting 
them with too great a degree of intelligence to assume 
that they studied the habits of their fellow-serpents and 
profited by them. 

The last spotted adder that I had the pleasure of find- 
ing vibrated the tail in a very marked manner. When 
first seen, the snake was lying on a thick bed of dead oak- 
leaves in the woods. It was closely coiled, and, when 
disturbed, raised its head, hissed, darted its tongue, and 



304 BAUBLES ABOUT HOME. 

at the same time vibrated the tail very rapidly and in 
such a manner that it gently struck the dead leaves as it 
moved up and down. The motion was distinctly up and 
down, and not sideways, as in the case of the hog-nose 
snake. The sound produced was exactly like that of a 
medium-sized rattlesnake. On removing the snake to a 
spot near by, where there was only grass, I found that 
the -movement of the tail was not repeated, although 
some time elapsed before I teased it. After several ef- 
forts I replaced the snake among the leaves and allowed 
it to remain for more than an hour. It made no effort to 
escape, and, when I returned suddenly, it quickly coiled 
itself as before, repeated the vibratory movement of the 
tail, and produced the same rattling sound as before. 
This can scarcely be considered as positive evidence ; but 
my impression then was, and still is, that the snake de- 
pended upon the dead leaves to produce the rattling 
sound, and trusted to the sound to frighten its tormentor. 
As we naturally associate this sound with the similar but 
very significant rattle of the rattlesnake, are the two spe- 
cies in any manner connected ? 

A similar occurrence to that mentioned above has been 
described in the " American Naturalist," September, 1879, 
and the writer asks : " Is this to be called an example of 
' mimicry ' ? May it be said that, far back in the past, some 
sagacious ancestor, witnessing that act of intimidation on 
the part of a rattlesnake, and observing how successful 
it w T as, resolved to adopt the practice itself, and thus, 
through inheritance, the practice became ingrafted upon 
this species ? " 

It has not, so far as I am aware, been shown that the 
sound produced by the vibration of the tail does produce 
a feeling of terror in the breast of any creature, whether 
it is attacking the snake or attacked by it. If it be true 



SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 305 

that snakes overcome their prey by rendering them 
powerless through fear, then any sound that is peculiar 
to snakes would, when heard, frighten the animal, but 
only to such a degree as to put it on guard ; and such a 
sound would prove detrimental to the snake's welfare. 
Even in the case of the rattlesnake, it does not add to the 
horror that its appearance produces. We are quite in 
the dark as to the reason why these sounds are made ; but 
that reason, be it what it may, is quite probably the same, 
whether made by the rattlesnakes with their peculiar ap- 
paratus, or by the simpler method adopted by the spotted 
adder. Certainly, so far as man is concerned, this sound 
is an almost certain means of causing the snake's death. 
Had it kept quiet it might have escaped observation ; but 
in thus giving notice of its whereabouts it signed its own 
death-warrant. This has so long been the case, that if 
the harmless spotted adder had possessed sufficient intel- 
ligence to see the advantage of the rattle to the rattle- 
snake, and had been determined to imitate it, as well as 
it could, it should also have learned that this same sound, 
when made within the hearing of some of its enemies, 
would endanger its safety, if not work its destruction. 

One other thought arises in this connection. In the 
case of the rattlesnake, admitting that the rattles have 
been evolved when the environment was wholly different, 
may it not be that the peculiarity is now retained, albeit 
no longer useful; while with such harmless species as 
the hog-nose snake and spotted adder, it is quite probable 
that the element of fear on the part of the snake plays an 
important part, and that this " rattling" is a result of 
fright on their part, rather than a desire to excite a simi- 
lar f eeling in their enemies ? 

There is yet another snake, occasionally met with in 



306 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

this neighborhood, known by a score of unmeaning names, 
not one of which is characteristic. De Kay, in the " Nat- 
ural History of New York," calls it the " red-snake," and 
Jordan, in his " Manual of Vertebrates," " ground-snake." 

It is not, strictly speaking, a red snake, neither is it 
even always of a reddish color, nor does it cling more 
closely to the ground than most of those other serpents 
that have been mentioned. By many it is called the 
" blind snake," because of the small size of its head, and, 
in fact, the head and tail are so similar in size and shape 
that this name is fully as descriptive as either of the 
others. 

The few specimens that I have seen have varied in 
color from a blue-gray to a reddish brown ; but whatever 
may be the color, it is uniform, and this, together with its 
small size and the absence of everything like stripes or 
spots, at once decides the identity of the species. 

I have been accustomed, in my field-notes, to call this 
little serpent the "cricket-snake," from the fact that I 
have twice found specimens with crickets in their mouths. 
One of these specimens was of a decided blue color, and 
the other a very pale brown, or clay color. I associated 
the color with the surroundings, and have since won- 
dered whether or not, like the tree-toad, it might not vary 
in this respect with the character of the locality it chanced 
to occupy. It is scarcely necessary to add that it is quite 
harmless, and offers no resistance when handled. In its 
general habits it presents no striking peculiarities. 

So much for the eleven species of snakes that I have 
mentioned. Twenty years of familiarity should have 
yielded better results, but it has not. 



CHAPTEK XXXII. 



uz gaunt's snake-story. 



N " Well, as a sort of a text to my discourse, let me say, 
when a snake's runnin' away from you, you can measure 
it by inches ; but when it's comin' after you, every inch 
is a foot long. That's how one feels about it. 

"Now, when the June fresh' was over the meadows, 
and everything that wasn't a fish was afloat, I was busy 
after ducks and anything else worth shootin'. Well, one 
morning, as I was floatin' about, seein' more curious ob- 
jects at a glance than I ever did before or since, my eyes 
rested on a big water-snake lyin' full stretch on a fence- 
rail. He was a whopper, now, I tell you. The rail was 
eleven foot long — I measured it — and the head of the 
snake was at one end, and the tail mighty close to the 
other." 

" Are you sure of that, Uz ? " I asked doubtingly. 

" Don't interrupt, boy ; that's the easiest part of it," 
Uz continued. " Well, I wanted the skin of that snake, 
just to show folks ; so I blazed away. I aimed at the mid- 
dle of the snake, and no sooner than I'd pulled trigger, 
when all of a sudden about a hundred snakes raised up on 
that rail and seemed to make for me. I came near upset- 
tin' the boat, I was so taken aback. What I'd seen wasn't 
one big snake at all, but a whole swad of 'em, and they 
had just twisted 'round each other like strands of a rope* 



308 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



and lay there, baskin' in the sun, on that fence-rail. So 
soon as I had taken it all in, I laughed right out, and 
wasn't scared a bit then ; but, boy, I wasn't out of the 
woods by a long shot. Now here comes the toughest 
yarn you ever heard from me, at least you'll think it a 
yarn." 

"Indeed, I will not," I said very earnestly. 

" You say so now ; but never mind, and let me have 
all the say for a while," Uz continued, and I acquiesced 
by a nod of the head. 

" Well, I was gazin' 'round at the snakes that were^. 
swimming all about, and some of 'em were climbin' back 
on the fence-rail. There were lots of 'em, big and little, 
and every sort I ever saw about here, I believe. Not want- 
in' any, I turned off, and sculled toward Swan Island flood- 
gates. I found there was a big hollow buttonwood 
lodged right across the gates. I sculled up close to it, 
expectin' to see somethin' in or about it, for everything 
afloat then, you know, had its living freight. I held my 
gun ready, thinkin' there might be a mink or otter 
around : when, just as I was scrapin' against the tree, 
down rattled a whoppin' big snake into the boat, and 
another followin', and another and another after them, 
for all I know. I pushed off, quick as I could, but was 
kind o' tangled in among the branches at the time, and, 
before I got clear, there were three thunderin' big snakes 
coiled up in the bottom of my canoe. I eyed 'em pretty 
close, and didn't recognize 'em. They had the look of 
the common puff-adder, or " hog-nose," as you call 'em, 
but didn't look the same. They were most too big, and 
seemed to be spotted in a different way. Perhaps they 
were all right and harmless, but I didn't like their looks. 
In a minute I made up my mind to get rid of 'em if I 
could, and lifted my scull out of the water. One of 'em, 






UZ GAUNT 'S SNAKE-STORY. 309 

coiled up nearest to Hie, raised his head, as I did this, 
and set his tail a-buzzin' like mad. I heard the sound, 
clear and clean, and saw that the critter was a rattle- 
snake. I gave one look at the other two, and they was 
the same. There I sat, in the stern of the little boat, with 
three rattlesnakes eyin' me, and not one of 'em six feet 
off. I don't quite remember just what I did, but some- 
how without accident I got the scull back, and started on. 
Either the near snake by his looks told me, or some- 
thing else did, that if I put for dry land they wouldn't 
make trouble. Now it's a good half mile to the hill-side 
from the Swan Island gates, and I took a straight course, 
I tell you. Big fool that I was for bein' so frightened ; 
I didn't keep much of a look ahead, and, 'fore I knew it, 
I went bump into a big sawdog that had come down the 
river. The boat came to with a jerk, and up raised every 
one of them snakes fully a foot or more, and didn't say 
anything, but looked at me, as much as to say, ' Do that 
again, Uz Gaunt, and your goose is cooked.' I hadn't 
control of my scull as I generally have, but somehow I 
made out to get movin' again. Luck was against me 
somehow, and I got into a tangle of grass and brush, but 
didn't come to a stand-still. One of the snakes, though, 
didn't like the sound of the boat's bottom gratin' over 
the brush, so it raised up, and coiled on a box that 
was lyin' at my feet. He settled on that box, with one 
lap of his coils restin' on the toe of my boot. I didn't 
dare to stir. All of a sudden that foot began to tickle 
like, and I wanted to wiggle my toes, but I didn't dare 
to. Then that leg got to sleep, and I couldn't shift it. 
It hadn't any feelin' in it, and I felt as though I'd tum- 
ble over on one side. It was no use. There was that one 
snake, on guard like, and it was evident to stir was cer- 
tain death. The boat didn't seem to move ahead worth 



310 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 






a cent ; I kept my scull goin', but it didn't send the boat 
spinnin' along as I've often done when chasin' a wound- 
ed duck. But I did come up to the shore in time, right 
close by the Pearson house on the hill-top, and somehow 
everything came to me all of a sudden as the boat grated 
on the sand. I gave a jump, clearin' the length of the 
boat, and made for the hill-top. ' Uz, you're a fool,' I 
said to myself before I'd taken many steps, and came to 
a stop. There I was, free as air, yet runnin' as though 
the snakes was after me. Soberin' down a. bit, I walked 
back toward the boat, and peered 'round very careful, 
I tell you. There was no sign of the snakes on land, 
and I went close up to the boat. There the three ver- 
min were, sure enough. I didn't know just what to do. 
I'd left my gun in the boat, besides, forgettin' all about 
it in my hurry ; besides, I couldn't have shot anyhow 
without hurtin' the boat, and it was my new cedar skiff. 
Thinkin' a minute, I cut a stout saplin', and, getting 
near enough, I gave one of 'em a pat on the head, and 
straightened him out, and then tackled t'other two. They 
didn't show any fight, and I got through all right, and, 
gettin' in my boat again, I pitched 'em out on the sand. 
Somehow they'd a sort of natural look, now they were 
dead, and, lookin' closer, hang me if every snake's tail 
wasn't as smooth as a whip-lash ! Oh ! but I was mad. 
To think of bein' scared out of my wits by next to noth- 
in', for every one was a harmless adder. From then till 
now I've hated snakes, and always shall." 

I laughed at his story, and he joined me, so far as to 
smile, for Uz never laughed aloud, I believe. 

" I never supposed you saw anything that far wrong, 
Uz," I remarked, after a pause. 

" I don't often, I believe ; but when it comes to snakes, 
I'm sure of nothin'. It's with me, when I see snakes, as 



UZ GAUNT '8 SNAKE-STORY. 311 

with many people who see commoner sights. I jumped 
at a conclusion, and conceited I never could jump in a 
wrong direction. Fact is, you've got to stop a bit and 
consider, whatever you do. With most of us it's a good 
deal like walkin' over Watson's meadows. Often greener 
grass grows on quicksand than the stiff dirt ; but it don't 
do to walk on it, nevertheless." 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 

It is with some hesitation that I venture to utilize 
the few notes that I have made upon the habits of the 
many batrachians common to central New Jersey. So 
promising a field is here offered, that I feel ashamed at 
not having long since availed myself of the opportunity 
of studying this class of animals, in spite of the difficulty 
which is often experienced of observing them to advan- 
tage when in their chosen haunts. A salamander, for 
instance, will remain absolutely motionless for an hour 
on or under some dead leaf, in the trickling waters that 
wend their way riverward from a mossy spring. To sit 
or stand for an hour, and watch this immovable creature, 
is both painful and monotonous, and when, at last, you 
disturb it, perhaps accidentally, away it goes to some 
similar spot near by, and resumes its motionless attitude. 
To spend more time, perhaps plagued the while with 
suspicions of possible rheumatism, and serenaded by mos- 
quitoes, is scarcely practicable, and studies of salamander 
life soon become a bore. That their whole time is not 
spent in lying still, or in creeping in the mud, is the one 
fact about which I am certain; and however discour- 
aging this result may be, it is possible that some future 
observer may have better luck. 

The toads and frogs are more easily observed, and 
their habits have been so closely studied that there are 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIAZS. 313 

few people who are not familiar with the prominent 
points of their life-histories. This, however, need not 
deter us from studying them, as probably not one half 
the whole truth is yet known ; and, besides, there are 
many prevalent errors to be corrected. 

Referring to frogs, I recall the words of Peter Kalm, 
when he visited this neighborhood. One hundred and 
thirty-two years ago, yesterday (May 31st), he records 
that " toward night, after the tide had begun to ebb, and 
the wind was quite subsided, we could not proceed, but 
dropped our anchor about seven miles from Trenton, and 
passed the night there. The woods were full of fire-flies 
(Zcwipyris), which flew like sparks of fire between the 
trees, and sometimes across the river. In the marshes 
the bullfrogs now and then began their hideous roaring, 
and more than a hundred of them roared together. The 
whip-poor-will was likewise heard everywhere." "While 
I am writing I glance from my paper, through the study- 
window, and I see the very spot where Kalm tarried on 
that summer night. The same marshes are there, and 
remains of the forest ; and on any pleasant summer night 
we may still see myriads of fire-flies, and hear the '•'hide- 
ous roaring " of the frogs, and scarcely less monotonous 
call of the whippoorwill. 

Let us now consider these various frogs and salaman- 
ders seriatim. 

Perhaps the most common of all our frogs is that of 
which Kalm has given a very good description in his 
" Travels in North America." Speaking of it, he says : 
" liana ocellata are a kind of frogs here (New Jersey), 
which the Swedes call sill-hoppe tosser, i. e., herring-hop- 
pers, and which now (March) began to quack in the 
evening and at night, in swamps, pools, and ponds. The 
name which the Swedes give them is derived from their 

14 



314 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

beginning to make their noise in spring, at the same 
time when the people here go catching what are called 
herrings, which, however, differ greatly from the true 
European herrings. These frogs have a peculiar note, 
which is not like that of our European frogs, but rather 
corresponds with the chirping of some large birds, and 
can nearly be expressed by pi-cet (pee-seet). With this 
noise they continue throughout a great part of spring, 
beginning their noise soon after sun-setting and finishing 
it just before sun-rising. The sound was sharp, but yet 
so loud that it could be heard at a great distance. When 
they expected rain they cried much worse than commonly, 
and began in the middle of the day or when it grew 
cloudy, and the rain came usually six hours after. As it 
snowed on the 16th of the next month (April), and blew 
very violently all day, there was not the least sign of 
them at night, and during the whole time that it was cold, 
and while the snow was on the fields, the frost had so 
silenced them, that we could not hear one ; but, as soon as 
the mild weather returned, they began their noise again. 
They were very timorous, and it was difficult to catch 
them, for as soon as a person approached the place where 
they lived, they are quite silent, and none of them ap- 
peared. It seems that they hide themselves entirely 
under water, except the tip of the snout, when they cry ; 
for, when I stepped to the pond where they were in, I 
could not observe a single one hopping into the water. 
I could not see any of them before I had emptied a whole 
pool where they lodged in. Their color is a dirty green, 
variegated with spots of brown. When they are touched, 
they make a noise and moan ; they then sometimes as- 
sume a form as if they had blown up the hind part of the 
back, so that it makes a high elevation ; and then they do 
not stir, though touched." 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 315 

This " herring-frog," as it is usually called, is, I be- 
lieve, the first to "give tongue" on the return of spring. 
Hibernation with them is, at best, an uncertain and impa- 
tient sleep ; and even as early as the middle of February, 
if there be a few consecutive warm days, they will com- 
mence what is complimentarily called, nowadays, their 
song. 

There is a saying common among my neighbors that 
these herring-frogs must be " shut up " three times by 
frost before spring fairly opens. I made a note of this 
years ago, and subsequent observation has shown that 
it would be nearer right to say "three times three" 
times. 

The eggs of this frog are deposited on the margins of 
quiet waters, and adhere loosely to twigs and dead grass. 
In a short time (I am not sure just how many days, but 
think it varies with the temperature considerably) the 
eggs are hatched, and then the waters become fairly alive 
with diminutive tadpoles. 

By this time these herring-frogs have become com- 
paratively silent, and are careless of the welfare of their 
young. They leave the water for much of the time, 
though they never wander far from it. In the tall grass 
that grows along the banks of every pool they forage for 
flies; and they seem to live without any ambition, save 
that of supplying their daily wants and guarding against 
the approach of snakes, by whom they are often sur- 
prised. A chapter on this subject remains to be written. 
That there is a homoeopathic dose of mind in a frog's 
cranium, I doubt not ; but I am free to admit, so far as 
these sill-hoppe tossers of the Swedes are concerned, that 
I have never found much evidence of the fact. They 
approach as near to being mere automata as any creatures 
I know. 



316 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

The pickerel-frog may be said to differ from the pre- 
ceding in the number and position of a few spots on the 
back : the herring-frog has the spots in two rows, while 
in the pickerel-frog they are in four. This is the one 
apparent difference, though there may be others not as 
marked. This slight variation in color and markings is 
constant and uniform, and it must have been brought 
about by some potent cause, supposing that these and 
our other frogs are derived from some ancestral type 
which is at once like, yet unlike, the five species that now 
frequent our meadows ; and no other supposition is ten- 
able. 

I have tried in vain to detect some difference in habit, 
or variation in date of appearance, or preference for dif- 
ferent localities, of these two kinds of frogs ; but all in 
vain. "Where the one is, there we find the other also, 
and the two species even keep up their croakings in 
concert. Possibly, there may be a little difference in 
their voices ; but of this I am not sure. Of the fact, that 
they belong to two species, there can be no doubt, and, as 
this difference can not be one of color alone, it is idle to 
suppose that we are acquainted with the full history of 
their lives. This we shall never be until we discover 
some action that is habitually performed by one and not 
by the other, or until we discover some places that are 
frequented by one and as carefully shunned by the other. 

What claims, it may be asked, have these frogs upon 
us ? This is easily answered. They are not only great 
checks upon an undue increase of insect life, but they are 
also scavengers. They do not, it is true, wander about 
the uplands in search of decaying animal-matter ; but in 
the waters they frequent they consume much that would 
otherwise render them impure. The minute larvae of 
aquatic insects are destroyed by them in vast quantities, 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 317 

and such decaying animal-matter as collects in every 
spring and running brook is likewise consumed. If care 
be taken to exclude every frog and salamander from a 
spring, it will be found that very soon the water will not 
be so pure, however strong the current, as is that of a 
frog-frequented spring. I have proved this by several 
careful experiments, and it can only be explained by the 
fact that these frogs feed upon such organic matter as 
would, in time, if allowed to remain, affect the quality of 
the water. In these frogs, then, we have beautiful, harm- 
less, useful, and cheerful, if not, strictly speaking, mu- 
sical animals. Is not their title to our good wishes well 
established ? 

There are other frogs, though, that will attract atten- 
tion, if we wander by the brookside, with an eye to what- 
ever is to be seen. A beautiful species, usually called 
the spring-frog, is likewise very abundant in the meadows, 
where, all the day long, he sits quietly on the bank of a 
ditch, unless alarmed, when he gives a great, flying leap, 
and dives into the depths with a loud splash. Not content 
with this, he burrows into the mud or hides in the grass, 
and it then takes a sharp pair of eyes indeed to discover 
him. When I startle a herring or pickerel frog, I can 
not tell which it is until I get a glance at the spots on 
the back. Both move alike ; and they jump into the 
water with a neat dive that scarcely ruffles the surface. 
It is otherwise, however, with the spring-frog. When I 
see him flying through the air, with all legs well spread, 
and hear the splash, I say at once, " clamitans," and nine 
times in ten I am right. 

This large green frog is not so sensitive to cold as 
the preceding, and, though " mum " after a frost, it will 
nevertheless be fully as active as in summer, and will 
skip over the dead grass with marvelous speed if it sus- 



318 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

pects any danger. While, perhaps, not the earliest to sing 
during the few spring days which we sometimes have 
late in February, yet it follows very closely in the wake 
of the others, and repeats much the same sounds, but in 
a deeper voice — a sort of bass accompaniment to the 
treble of the herring-frog. Here, perhaps, it would be 
well to mention that Kalm's impression, derived from 
the Swedes, that the singing of the herring-frog an- 
nounced the arrival of the herring, is not quite correct. 
They anticipate the coming of the fish, by from two to 
three weeks, in five years out of every six. This is true 
of late years, and it is doubtful if the herring ever came 
any earlier than now. 

I have usually found the eggs of this frog, in May, 
attached to long grass. They are larger, and are depos- 
ited in bulky, irregular masses of a glossy, gelatinous 
substance, which holds them safe, even in strong currents 
of water, until the eggs are hatched. So conspicuous are 
these masses of ova, that I have often wondered why they 
were not devoured by the fishes and turtles. These ani- 
mals, however, do not appear to molest them ; at least, I 
have never seen either turtles or fish in the act. This is 
negative evidence, it is true, and must go for what it is 
worth. 

Unlike the frogs already mentioned, the spring-frog 
does not hibernate with the regularity supposed to be 
characteristic of these animals generally. Every winter 
I have found that several took up their residence, for the 
season, in the deep water of a large spring near the house. 
This gave me abundant opportunities for observing them, 
and I found that while they remained at the bottom of 
the spring more than they did during the summer, yet 
they occasionally came to the surface, and stuck the tips 
of their noses just out of the water. I believe they took 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 319 

no food from November to March. Indeed, I could not 
see any living prey for them to take ; and the fact that, in 
several specimens which I dissected, the digestive- tract 
was quite empty, confirmed me in the supposition. 

Occasionally, in my rambles, I have chanced upon 
deeper ponds and more retired spots, where, thinking 
naturally of fish, rather than frogs, I have been startled, 
as I passed carelessly along, by a loud splash, or a deep 
note as hoarse as that of a bull in some neighboring pas- 
ture, but not otherwise similar. I had startled a bull- 
frog. 

From the high bank, into the deep water, away he 
had gone, and my chance of seeing him again was indeed 
small. This deep-voiced, noisy, splashing frog is the 
largest of the five species common to New Jersey, and, 
when full grown, it is a rather formidable-looking creat- 
ure, though, like all the frogs, it is of course quite harm- 
less. 

The bull-frogs did not fail to attract the attention of 
Kalm when traveling through New Jersey, and he re- 
lates some marvelous stories concerning them. His ac- 
count is as follows : " Bull-frogs are a large species of 
frogs, which I had an opportunity of hearing and seeing 
to-day (May 5th, 1749). As I was riding out I heard a 
roaring before me, and I thought it was a bull in the 
bushes, on the other side of the dyke, though the sound 
was rather more hoarse than that of a bull. I was, how- 
ever, afraid that a bad goring bull might be near me, 
though I did not see him, and I continued to think so 
till some hours after, when I talked with some Swedes 
about the bull-frogs, and, by their account, I immediately 
found that I had heard their voice ; for the Swedes told 
me that there were numbers of them in the dyke. I 



320 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

afterward hunted for them. Of all the frogs in this 
country this is doubtless the greatest. I am told that 
toward autumn, as soon as the air begins to grow a little 
cool, they hide themselves under the mud which lies at 
the bottom of ponds and stagnant waters, and lie there 
torpid during winter. As soon as the weather grows 
mild toward summer they begin to get out of their 
holes, and croak. If the spring, that is, if the mild 
weather, begins early, they appear about the end of March, 
old style ; but if it happens late, they tarry under water 
till late in April. Their places of abode are ponds and 
bogs with stagnant water ; they are never in any flowing 
water. When many of them croak together they make 
an enormous noise. Their croak exactly resembles the 
roaring of an ox or bull which is somewhat hoarse. 
They croak so loud that two people talking by the side 
of a pond can not understand each other. They croak 
all together ; then stop a little, and begin again. It seems 
as if they had a captain among them : for when he be- 
gins to croak, all the others follow ; and when he stops, 
the others are all silent. When this captain gives the 
signal for stopping, you hear a note like ' Po — 6p. n 
coming from him. In day-time they seldom make any 
great noise, unless the sky is covered. But the night is 
their croaking-time ; and when all is calm you may hear 
them, though you are near a mile and a half off. When 
they croak they commonly are near the surface of the 
water, under the bushes, and have their heads out of 
water. Therefore, by going slowly one may get close up 
to them before they go away. As soon as they are quite 
under water they think themselves safe, though the water 
be very shallow. 

"Sometimes they sit at a good distance from the 
pond ; but as soon as they suspect any danger, they has- 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 321 

ten with great leaps into the water. They are very ex- 
pert at hopping. A full-grown bull-frog takes near three 
yards at one hop. I have often been told the following 
story by the old Swedes, w r hich happened here at the 
time when the Indians lived with the Swedes. It is well 
known that the Indians are excellent runners ; I have 
seen them, at Governor Johnson's, equal the best horse in 
its swiftest course, and almost pass it. Therefore, in 
order to try how well the bull-frogs could leap, some of the 
Swedes laid a wager with a young Indian that he could 
not overtake the frog, provided it had two leaps before- 
hand. They carried a bull-frog, which they had caught 
in a pond, upon a field, and burnt his hips ; the fire and 
the Indian, who endeavored to be closely up with the 
frog, had such an effect upon the animal that it made its 
long hops across the field as fast as it could. The Indian 
began to pursue the frog with all his might at the proper 
time : the noise he made in running frightened the poor 
frog ; probably it was afraid of being tortured with fire 
again, and therefore it redoubled its leaps, and by that 
means it reached the pond before the Indian overtook it. 

"In some years they are more numerous than in 
others; nobody could tell whether the snakes had ever 
ventured to eat them, though they eat all the lesser kinds 
of frogs. The women are no friends to these frogs, be- 
cause they kill and eat young ducklings and goslings ; 
sometimes they carry off chickens that come too near the 
ponds. I have not observed that they bite when they 
are held in the hands, though they have little teeth ; 
when they are beaten they cry out almost like children. 
I was told that some eat the thighs of the hind legs, and 
that they are very palatable." 

If the above is correct in all its parts, then we have 
few, if any, such bull-frogs as Kalm saw in 1749. The 



322 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

environment has grown yearly less desirable, and degen- 
eration has set in. In a few score generations more the 
mammoth bull-frog itself will have gone the way of the 
mastodon and great auk, and there will be left but a few 
pygmy descendants to testify to its great size. 

Let us, however, take up Kalm's description by sec- 
tions, and see how it applies to the indefinitely great- 
great-grandchildren of the frogs of his time. And, first 
of all, as to its voice : can any one say now that the 
familiar notes, often and aptly likened to "jug-o'-rum, 
jug-o'-rum," has a bovine sound? Of late I have lin- 
gered long in the meadows, listening to the bull-frogs in 
the ditch hard by, and then to the mooing of the cows 
as they come from the pasture. Perhaps there is a simi- 
larity, but I could never detect it. So common, how- 
ever, is it to hear the comparison made, that I suppose 
the resemblance must have been true of them formerly, 
if not now. Gabriel Thomas, in his quaint little history 
of Pennsylvania, published in 1698, speaking of the vari- 
ous sorts of frogs, says there is " the Bull-Frog, which 
makes a roaring noise, hardly to be distinguished from 
that well known of the Beast from whom it takes its 
Name." I can only go so far as to admit it is a deep 
bass note, but always well defined, and not a roar, even 
when a dozen are croaking together. Kalm's description 
of their croaking in concert is excellent, but it would be 
better to say that each concert has its leader, rather than 
each company its captain. The latter, if true, would be 
evidence of considerable intelligence ; but it is only ap- 
parently true of them. I have very carefully watched 
the bull-frogs in a pond .near my house, and have found 
that the croaking of the " captain " is not always that 
of the same individual. At times the initial croak 
would come from one side of the pond, then the other, 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 323 

and so continue to vary. This shows at once that not 
any one individual started and stopped the croaking of 
its companions* 

As to their leaping, Kalm is extravagant in his esti- 
mates. He says " near three yards at one leap," but 
does not say how near. The biggest old "bloody-noun" 
I could ever find could not, or would not, hop three 
yards at one hop for me, although I spurred him on in 
many ways, even to scaring him with a snake. The 
longest hop fell short of seven feet by some inches. 
Perhaps the frogs in Kalm's time were larger than those 
that grow about here to-day, or it may be that they made 
spring-boards of lily-leaves, and so had a decided advan- 
tage in jumping. As to the running-match with the 
Indian, it is evident that the latter could not have been 
in running condition that day, or he would have done 
better ; possibly he was a little rheumatic. The fact is 
that our modern frogs get out of wind after three or four 
consecutive hops, and are readily overtaken ; and it is 
probably for this reason that they are careful never to 
wander too far from water, as they know that, in propor- 
tion to the distance they go inland, they increase the 
danger of exposure to snakes; but, when on the bank 
of the pond or ditch, they can easily avoid an enemy by 
one leap into the water, and often into the deeper mud 
beneath it. Stupid as frogs appear to be, they merit the 
credit of this degree of intelligence. Again, it is strange 
that there should have been any doubt as to the fact that 
snakes ate the bull-frogs, however large they might grow ; 
for it is no uncommon occurrence for a slender whip-lash 
of a garter-snake to dispose of a meadow-mouse. By 
some mechanical ingenuity and physiological black art, 
their little jaws drop apart wide enough to take in the 
mouse, and down it goes into a darker retreat than any 



324 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

that it had previously explored. It is scarcely necessary 
to entertain the suggestion that perhaps snakes formerly 
did not eat bull-frogs, as that is nonsense; but strange 
indeed is it that Kalm should have been in any doubt 
about the matter. 

It is, on the other hand, all too true " that they are 
very palatable," and to this unfortunate circumstance 
must be ascribed the fact that these great goggle-eyed 
frogs, that lend such a charm to quiet ponds and hidden 
swampy hollows, are now comparatively scarce. 

Out of the meadows and into the woods, away from 
the muddy ponds and stagnant puddles, to the leafy 
haunts of squirrels and chipmunks; and here, if it be 
even a little damp, we may chance upon another frog, 
which in color, habits, and disposition is unlike all the 
others. I mean the little brown wood-frog. It is liter- 
ally quick as a flash, and for some reason has a great 
dread of mankind ; at least, it takes wonderful leaps, and 
plenty of them, whenever any one happens to come too 
near. I know of no harder task than to chase a wood- 
frog over uneven ground. 

Except in April, when they congregate at some neigh- 
boring pond and lay their eggs, these frogs frequent the 
woods the year through, feeding on flies and such small 
fry until frost comes, when they burrow some two feet 
deep in damp earth, and there they remain until the 
weather has become fairly spring-like. 

By people who ought to know better these wood- 
frogs are confounded with the tree-toads. Why two 
creatures so unlike should be mistaken for one another 
passeth comprehension ; yet, in spite of all the zoological 
literature, and thousands of school-teachers, such is the 
fact. Worse than this : I know of a lad, with a correct 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 325 

knowledge of our batrachians, who dared to correct bis 
teacher on this matter while on a Saturday fishing-frolic, 
and who was in turn " corrected " by the teacher on the 
following Monday. 

Here, then, we have five well-marked species of frogs, 
all found in great numbers in this one limited locality, 
and available to the student every day in the year. That 
they have taught me so little is my fault, not theirs. 

A toad-like creature, yet differing from toads and 
frogs, is known among naturalists as the " hermit spade- 
foot." It is seldom seen; more seldom is it to find any 
person who has knowingly seen one, and, if it should hap- 
pen to be accidentally encountered, the average citizen 
would, if he looked at it at all, probably say " hop-toad," 
and never suspect that it was a very different animal. But, 
then, why should he, as the average citizen does not usually 
want knowledge that can not be converted into dollars 
and cents? 

The spade-foot is wholly terrestrial in its habits. Like 
the frogs and hop-toads, it goes to the water to spawn, 
but at no other time. The eggs are placed around a 
single spike of grass, and are said to hatch in six days. 
The growth of the tadpoles " is very rapid, not more than 
two or three weeks elapsing before the young toads leave 
the water." 

My first acquaintance with the spade-foot was in May, 
1874. Passing, early one morning, by the side of a 
shallow pond, thickly overgrown with rank vegetation, 
my attention was called to a peculiar and very loud noise, 
coming from the water, and which was quite new to me. 
As has been remarked by a prominent naturalist, " the 
peculiar, harsh croaking of this singular toad must be 
heard to be appreciated, and can then never be confounded 



326 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

with that of any other species. The only sound we can 
liken it to is that of a heavily-loaded, creaking wagon 
rolling over hard and uneven ground." As I can not 
improve upon it, I will let this go as a description of the 
noise spade-foots make ; but it does not, by any means, 
do justice to their squealing, grunt-like croaks. 

On hearing, for the first time, this fearful racket, I 
straightway turned my steps pondward, and found the 
place literally alive with the toads. At first glance I 
took them to be the common species, but was puzzled by 
the sound. Then, on closer inspection, I found them to 
be the rare spade-foots. They continued in the pond for 
five days, but made but little noise during the last two. 
On the sixth day there was not one to be found anywhere 
about. I searched for several days, but found no trace 
of them, nor have I seen one in the eight years that have 
passed since that time. 

This toad may be described as a terrestrial batrachian 
which burrows " in the damp earth, a few inches below 
the surface, which it excavates with great ease by means 
of its spade-like processes or sharp-edged spurs growing 
from their heels. In these holes it lies in wait for such 
insects as may approach, and I suspect can spring forth 
to seize whatever may be passing incautiously near its 
hiding-place. I remarked, at least in those which I had 
alive, that it leaped with great apparent ease to a consid- 
erable distance." So writes De Kay, in his "Natural 
History of New York." 

Another batrachian with which all are more or less 
familiar, unless their whole lives have been spent in a 
large city, is the tree-toad. Unlike the common toad, 
which is terrestrial, or the frogs, that are aquatic, this ani- 
mal leads an arboreal life. In anatomical structure, 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 327 

therefore, it differs from both the others, so far as this is 
necessary to its peculiar mode of life ; the most promi- 
nent variation being found in the fingers and toes, which 
•are more or less dilated into disks at their tips. 

This little tree-toad soon attracted the attention of the 
early colonists of New Jersey, and I find mention made 
of it as early as 1698. Gabriel Thomas, whom I have 
already quoted, refers to a " sort of Frog, that crawls up to 
the tops of Trees, there seeming to imitate the Notes of 
several BirdsP The idea of the resemblance of its note 
to that of "several birds," or of any one kind of bird, is 
rather amusing. Like all of our batrachians, the tree- 
toads make their way to the water as the proper place 
for depositing their eggs. These eggs are " attached 
singly and in small groups along the grasses resting on 
the water's surface." Eggs deposited on May 10th are 
recorded by Miss Hinckley, in the " Proceedings of the 
Boston Society of Natural History," to have hatched two 
days later, and passed through the tadpole state by July 
4th, when the tadpoles were found " at the water's edge, 
with the tail reduced to a mere stump." 

My own knowledge of these little creatures covers 
only their arboreal life. I have never seen them except 
in their high and dry quarters ; not always dry, either, 
for they love damp hollows in the angles of the branches 
where a little rain lodges. 

The old apple-trees in the lane are sure to be tenanted 
by several tree-toads every year, and the little that I have 
learned of them has been by watching those that fre- 
quented this one locality. This, by the way, is not re- 
commended as a safe way of studying the habits of ani- 
mals, as there would be nothing improbable, from what 
we know of other animals, in tree-toads acting quite dif- 
ferently in different trees. Suppose them, for instance, 



328 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

to be hiding in a cedar or in a weeping- willow, and it is 
evident that trees so widely different would make it ne- 
cessary that their movements when in pursuit of insects 
should be quite different, for they do not sit quietly in. 
one spot, trusting to sufficient prey coming within their 
reach. I have not been able to learn how far these ani- 
mals vary in the choice of their haunts, as I know them 
almost only as frequenting the apple-trees. 

As is well known, the tree-toad is nocturnal and cre- 
puscular in its habits. By day it sits very still in some 
quiet nook. By sitting still it must not be supposed 
that it makes no noise. Far from it. Let a patch of 
cloud as big as a barn-door cast a shadow over it, and the 
fretful fellow at once begins to croak. This croak is so 
very generally regarded as a sign of rain, that it almost 
invariably calls forth the remark, " It is going to rain," 
from some one who has happened to hear it. Even the 
Indians looked upon it in this light, and so did the Swedes 
in South Jersey. I am sorry, however, to have to say 
that the toads in the apple-trees have undermined my 
faith in the "sign," as they have not shown themselves 
superior in prophetic ability to the man who gravely in- 
forms us what the weather will be when the indications 
are unmistakable. The croaks and the coming rain, so 
far as my apple-tree toads are concerned, are mere coinci- 
dences — nothing more — as the following observations 
will show: In 1880 the tree-toads croaked every day 
from May 9th to July 12th, both inclusive, and there 
were but six wet days during the sixty-five. The next 
summer gave the same results ; and during the early part 
of the summer of 1882, during which there was a consid- 
erable drought, it was the same thing. They croaked 
more or less every day, hot or cool, sunshine or clouds, 
and far more at noon-time than either in the early morn- 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 329 

ing or at evening. The supposition that they are particu- 
larly noisy at night is wholly inapplicable to my apple- 
tree toads. Had I never heard anything about these ani- 
mals, I should have reported them as croaking not be- 
cause it was likely to rain, but because it was so dry that 
they were suffering for want of moisture. After an un- 
usually hot day, during the early summer, I have noticed 
that they croak a great deal after sunset, when the air 
becomes damper, seemingly out of pure satisfaction at 
the desirable change ; while during our annual summer 
drought they croak much at mid-day, and this, I have 
thought, was a cry of impatience uttered in anticipation 
of the refreshing bath of dew that only comes with 
night-fall. 

When we do have a fairly wet season, these tree-toads 
are less full of croak than during a dry one ; and never 
have I been able to detect the slightest connection be- 
tween the cries of the apple-tree toads in the lane and 
either a passing shower or a coming storm. 

It may be asked of the tree-toad, as of many another 
of our fauna, are they as abundant as formerly ? In an- 
swer to this, I quote Captain Jonathan Carver, who, in the 
concluding chapter of his " Travels in North America " 
(1766-'69), says : " These creatures . . . infest the woods 
in such numbers that their responsive notes at these times 
make the air resound." The rest of the notice is a mixt- 
ure of truth and absurdity, and is omitted ; but the por- 
tion quoted would indicate that either tree-toads were for- 
merly more abundant than at present, or that the author 
has confounded the animal with some one of the true 
frogs. 

The tree-toads, while always at home during the day, 
are as active as a hop-toad during the night, and wander 
about the home-tree in search of f ood„ Unless disturbed, 



330 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

however, they do not, I think, go far away, certainly not 
so far that they can not find their way back. I have 
long thought that they made one tree their home, and I 
know, from observations extending over several sum- 
mers, that the same tree-toad wdll spend the day, the 
summer through, in the one spot on the tree. From 
April to October, without a miss, except when making 
the journey to the nearest water to lay eggs, I have 
known a tree-toad, day after day, to stick to one and the 
same spot, wherever it might travel through the night. 
Of course, such regularity of habit must be coincident with 
an abundant food-supply. Let this once become uncer- 
tain, and, like sensible toads, they would quickly change 
their quarters ; but any change of locality is probably 
from necessity, not choice. 

I have never been able to find out whether this batra- 
chian had any enemies. The snakes that climb trees, as 
the black-snakes, do doubtless sometimes make a dinner 
upon them ; but our climbing snakes are few, and hence 
the inference, that they have less to fear than either the 
frogs or toads, though they are by no means so numerous. 

There is yet another species of tree-toad, called Pick- 
ering's hyla, which is found about here, though it is not 
so common. Its place is taken by the little green and 
brown batrachian called the cricket-frog, or " peeper." 
This species is not a true tree-toad, or hyla, as there is a 
little twist in its muscles and a wrinkle in the bones 
which the other does not possess ; so, instead of rejoicing 
in the pretty scientific name Hyla, we must call it Hy- 
lodes, if we speak scientifically ; but to me the little fel- 
low is always a " peeper." 

One of the cheeriest of the many early spring notes 
is the clear, bell-like voice of this little animal. We hear 
it wherever we go, though we do not so often have the 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 331 

opportunity of seeing him in the act of " peep "-ing. 
One Saturday evening, late in April, 1882, as I was walk- 
ing along the bank of a narrow ditch in the neighbor- 
ing meadow, I was startled by the shrill " kweep " of a 
" peeper." I say startled, for the- sound seemed to come 
from directly under my feet, as though I had trodden 
upon the little fellow and crushed this one agonized cry 
from him. Instantly I stopped, and waited patiently for 
several moments. All was silent, until I imitated the 
cry as best I could, when immediately the little frog an- 
swered me. I knew then that he was not even hurt, 
and straightway I began to search for him, as I was very 
anxious to see one uttering the shrill note peculiar to 
its species. I first stooped ; but failing in this to get a 
glimpse of him, I then lay fiat upon the damp meadow. 
At every change of position the little fellow ceased his 
shrill cry ; but a moment's quiet on my part restored his 
confidence, and the piercing " kweep " again sounded so 
shrilly that I was confident the animal must be within a 
foot of my face. Still I failed to find him. Not dis- 
couraged, but fearful of rheumatism, I was about to retire, 
when I was joined by my son, who took a position near 
by and scanned the grass along the ditch-bank, as only 
his younger eyes could ; and he soon discovered the lit- 
tle hylodes upon the opposite bank of the ditch, much 
farther away than I had supposed. We had a full view 
of him, as he was clinging to two blades of grass in a 
perpendicular position, head up and hips down. The 
note or " kweep " was preceded by the formation of an 
immense air-sack in the throat. This was as large, I 
thought, as the animal itself. As suddenly as it came, 
the sack disappeared ; and simultaneously with the col- 
lapse came the shrill note I have described. The whole 
act was so rapid that I could scarcely follow it, though I 



332 E AMBLES ABOUT ROME. 

saw enough at the time to satisfy me that the sound was 
produced by the escape of the air that filled the enor- 
mous sack at its throat. 

During the month of April, 1881, I had an excellent 
opportunity for observing these creatures ; and, finding 
that but little had been recorded concerning them, I 
availed myself of the chance with all the more earnest- 
ness, and watched them closely for several weeks. 

While a network of ditches in a low meadow were 
being repaired, extended, and cleaned, I followed the 
workmen closely, for the purpose of gathering any novel- 
ties that might be thrown out with the mud and dead 
leaves that had accumulated in them. Much of interest 
was found ; but the one striking feature of the locality 
at this time was the wonderful abundance of little 
" peepers," or, in dignified language, hylodes. They were 
in full song, and when not disturbed, made more noise 
than all the frogs in the neighborhood. They were 
quite timid, however, and, on being approached, were 
straightway " mum." Their vocal efforts seemed to in- 
crease until the first week in May, when their eggs were 
deposited in little masses which were attached to the 
blades of rank grass floating on the surface of the water. 
I did not succeed in following the various stages of de- 
velopmental growth from the egg to the matured animal, 
but I was enabled to determine that it was more pro- 
tracted than in the common tree-toad. The difference 
is, I am led to think, about six or seven weeks. The tardi- 
ness of growth is occasioned by the slow development of 
the limbs, which do not, I think, begin to grow until late 
in the summer. 

From the date of their earliest appearance in spring 
in considerable numbers until about the last week in 
May the meadows are literally alive with them. Wher- 



SEOET STUDIES OF BATEACHIAKS. 333 

ever the ground is at all wet, they are to be seen as thick 
as grasshoppers in August. Extremely active and quite 
shy, they are difficult to catch, in case the pursuit is eon- 
fined to a single individual, but, by sweeping an ordinary 
dip-net along the grass at the edge of any little pool, 
several are certain to be taken. They feed ravenously 
at this time, and, even when confined in very cramped 
quarters, they will devour any flies that may come with- 
in reach. On the other hand, they appear at this time 
to constitute the main food-supply of certain fishes, all 
the snakes, some turtles, and a few birds. I found that 
all our snakes during April and May were more abun- 
dant in the meadows than elsewhere, and there can be 
no doubt that they were drawn thither for the purpose 
of feeding on these little batrachians. Even that lover 
of high, dry, and dusty fields, the hog-nosed snake, was 
found at intervals along the banks of the ditches, appar- 
ently on the lookout for " peepers," and the dissection 
subsequently of one of these snakes proved that it had 
fed upon them. 

About the middle of May there was a very notice- 
able diminution in their numbers, and by the close of the 
first week in June not a specimen was to be found. 
High and low, up hill and down dale, it mattered not 
where I looked, not a trace of an adult hy lodes could I 
discover. Can it be that their vigor culminates with the 
maturity of the ova and spermatozoa, and that, having 
spawned, they have no vital force remaining, and so, in 
the course of a few weeks after ovipositing, they die ? If 
this be so, then weeks must elapse without a representa- 
tive of this batrachian being in existence, and the race is 
preserved in the tadpoles that swarm in the stagnant 
ponds and sluggish ditches. This continues until August, 
when these tadpoles become fully developed " peepers." 



334 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

In September their numbers greatly increase, and now 
they spread over a wider range than they seemed to fre- 
quent in April and May. Indeed, in the autumns of 1881 
and 1882 I found very few in the meadows, but thousands 
were in damp, upland nooks, as, for instance, about the 
springs and particularly along a brook where the water 
flowed rapidly over a pebbly bed. 

Early in October, 1881, I found a number of these 
" peepers " in a little ravine, through which a brook 
ripples riverward. I noticed at the time that these little 
creatures had a decided aversion to the water. Neces- 
sary as it was for them to keep their skins moist, they 
had no desire to become thoroughly wet, and when by 
chance they made an unlucky jump and settled in the 
water, they straightway crawled out and took up a high 
and dry position on some projecting stone. If in the 
sunlight, so much the better. A bath seemed to chill 
them, and whenever I drove one into the water, I 
found that for several minutes after it emerged I could 
pick it up without difficulty ; but in time it would regain 
its ordinary activity, and then quick indeed must be the 
movements of any one who would catch such an one with 
the hand alone. 

It was at this time, too, that I gave close attention to 
the subject of their color and its changeableness. 

While there are certain peculiarities of color that are 
persistent and characteristic of the species, these, at times, 
become of little prominence, so very great is the differ- 
ence in the entire coloration of the animal. Furthermore, 
they change their hues with great rapidity, and during 
the course of a few moments will pass from an ashy 
paleness or clay color to an intense black, with the light 
dorsal stripe scarcely visible, or else either of a glowing 
red or a brilliant metallic green. So very beautiful are 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 335 

these colors, and so different in appearance will any half- 
dozen of these animals prove to be, that it is difficult to 
realize that they all belong to one and the same species. 

Of a series of six which I have long kept in confine- 
ment (October 20th to January 29th) in a bottle, one 
specimen was taken from a ledge of pale yellow clay. 
The "peeper" was of the same color, the post-orbital 
dark spot and light dorsal line being scarcely discernible. 
The uniform yellow tint, however, was relieved by minute 
round points of brilliant bronze. This individual, unlike 
its companions, did not alter in color for several weeks. 
The others were very changeable, and particularly so when 
exposed to direct sunlight. While I noted several in- 
stances to the contrary, my impression is that usually the 
colors pale in direct sunlight, and deepen when the ani- 
mals are in deep shade. This certainly is true of those I 
have in confinement, and agrees with my experience in 
searching for them during the past autumn. One fact 
with reference to the subject of their color is not in ac- 
cordance, perhaps, with the above, but should not go un- 
recorded. The six individuals which I have in a bottle 
will, at times, present very different tints, although all 
are subjected to like surroundings. Of the six, two or 
three would be very dark, the others pale yellow. With 
some the dark triangular spot between the eyes would be 
very distinct, in the case of the others it could not be 
detected, even in outline. It must be remembered, how- 
ever, that these individuals were kept in most unnatural 
conditions, and though, at the time of this writing, they 
had been without food for one hundred days, yet they 
were as active as squirrels. 

Sensitive as these " peepers " are to changes of tem- 
perature, it is by no means the first frost that drives them 
into their winter quarters. In the autumn of the past 



336 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

year (1881) I found them as late as Nov. 12th, and even 
later (Dec. 27th) my son found one in the meadows which 
was as lively as a cricket. The frogs generally w T ere 
singing this day. For more than tw T o weeks prior to 
Nov. 12th there had been several white frosts, and the 
true frogs (Ranee) had all disappeared except the few that 
lingered in the warm waters of the larger springs. Not 
so, however, with the " peepers ; " the cozy, sheltered 
nooks in the ravine I have mentioned afforded them com- 
fortable quarters still, and after a severe rain-storm, w^hich 
lasted for three days, I found numerous specimens near 
the brook, always in moist places, but not where it w r ould 
be called wet. In many instances they were found ad- 
hering to the under sides of projecting stones, roots of 
trees, and even to large oak-leaves. I find it stated by 
De Kay, in his " Natural History of New York," that they 
can not retain their hold upon the under sides of project- 
ing objects ; that the disks on their toes are not sufficiently 
large. This is an error ; indeed, the specimens I have in 
a bottle can retain their hold when the bottle is turned 
over. 

My impression is, that they do not require or partake 
of any food during their brief experience as matured 
" peepers " in autumn, i. e., from completion of the growth 
of their limbs in September to the commencement of 
their hibernation. My reason for this is based upon the 
fact that the specimens in a bottle, to which I have 
referred, were placed in confinement on the 20th of Oc- 
tober, 1881, and the date of writing, January 29, 1882, 
a period of one hundred days has just elapsed. During 
this time these "peepers" have had no food, have been 
quite as active as their limited quarters would permit, 
and yet have not lost weight to any important extent. 
One which I weighed on the day following its capture 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRAGEIANS. 337 

weighed forty-four grains, and seventy-five days later had 
lost but one grain. 

In the spring it is very different ; then they are vora- 
cious feeders, and capture millions of insects. At this 
time their stomachs are always full, and, while the size of 
the animal is not noticeably larger than it was in autumn, 
yet the weight is nearly twice as great. Their physiologi- 
cal activity apparently culminates with the maturing of 
the ova and the labor of depositing and fertilizing it, as 
I have already suggested. This effected, these little 
" peepers " are worn out, and, as I am forced to believe, 
the greater number, at least, soon die. 

Going back to the high and dry land, there may be 
found a common batrachian — the familiar hop-toad — 
about which many errors are rife, and which is therefore 
entitled to an extended notice. 

It is probable that the absence of all attractiveness 
has had much to do with the indifference with w T hich 
toads are regarded, and, in justice, it must be admitted 
that the toad is superlatively ugly. This, however, should 
interest rather than repel the student, since this black and 
brown ugliness is an excellent instance of protective col- 
oration. So inconspicuous is this toad, when in its ordi- 
nary haunts, that it has but to sit still and let its food 
come unsuspectingly within reach. Then it is seized, but 
so quickly that it takes a sharp eye to follow the move- 
ment. Whoever hates flies should love the toad. It 
would be hard to determine just how many it will devour 
in the course of twenty-four hours, but a fair estimate can 
be made. For instance, two summers ago, a lazy, aged 
toad took up its quarters by the kitchen-door. A conve- 
nient cranny in the brick pavement was its home ; but it 
sallied out often, even in broad daylight, to feast upon the 

15 



338 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

innumerable flies. Once, watch in hand, I timed it, with 
the following result : In three minutes it captured twen- 
ty-nine flies, supposing that it never missed its aim. The 
toad looked like a child's rocking-horse while thus en- 
gaged, and no wonder, for once in every six seconds it 
leaned forward, shot out its tongue, and then came back 
with a flop to its original position. Then out again and 
back, and so it kept up for the three minutes. Then a 
pause of three or four, during which a new lot of flies 
accumulated, and the three-minute job was repeated. 
This toad has been a fixture in the kitchen-pavement for 
nine years, and, I am happy to add, still lives. Think- 
kindly of toads, then, all ye who have a horror of flies. 

Although a nocturnal animal, the toad is by no means 
disposed to remain idle through the day. It is, however, 
only after sundown that protracted foraging expeditions 
are undertaken, and it is only at that time that it sings ! 
Why not call it singing ? Frogs " sing," in common parl- 
ance, although some ill-natured folk call it grunting, and 
the toads certainly have an equal right to have their vocal 
efforts similarly named. It is a deep, penetrating, me- 
tallic rattle that may be heard a long way off, and, when 
one after another repeats the note, it becomes a feature of 
the serenade with which our country folk are nightly 
favored during the summer months. The frogs get the 
credit of the performance with many, but this "mixing" 
of different things is not unusual in matters zoological. 

One word more. Toads do go to the water to lay 
their eggs, and these eggs do not hatch into hoppers, but 
into little tadpoles, which have to wait with patience for 
their legs to grow. Then these ridiculous miniatures of 
their sedate parents come hopping from the ditches in 
regiments and brigades, and were it not that very many 
of the birds, mammals, and reptiles in the neighborhood 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 339 

fatten on them, we should soon have a plague of toads. 
As it is, we have not half enough. 

Every one of the preceding batrachians, ten in num- 
ber, have been placed in an " order " called Anura — that 
is, they are tailless. Perhaps this may seem contradic- 
tory, for every one had a tail when it was hatched, and 
with some this appendage was larger than the whole body. 
In time, however, these tails dwindle away, and wonder- 
fully well-developed legs appear, and no one, seeing a 
frog or toad for the first time, would ever suspect that 
once upon a time he sported a tail. 

Before completing our cursory glance at the batrachi- 
ans we must again return to the haunts of the frogs and 
turtles, for there are in these damp nooks and crannies 
a whole host of creeping, slimy, and often gayly-painted 
creatures, which the ignorant will persist in calling water- 
lizards ; and generally a libel, to the effect that they are 
poisonous, is added. These animals are collectively known 
as salamanders, and may briefly be defined as lizard- 
shaped, but with the body naked or without scales. Un- 
like the frogs, they have tails — not little stumps, but 
long, slender, whip-lash appendages — that wiggle as the 
creature runs, and are of no earthly use whatever, and 
probably never were. Indeed, • snakes and turtles nip 
them off very frequently, and the salamander seems to 
thrive ail the better for it. Indeed, so much are they 
benefited by the operation, that a race of tailless sala- 
manders ought long since to have been Darwinized into 
existence. However, it has not been done, and, though 
the tails are of no known use, yet the salamanders will 
persist in cultivating the useless appendage. 

There is a strong family likeness running through the 
list of these animals, which may number ten species in 



340 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

this neighborhood, although I am not certain of the iden- 
tity of more than four. Externally they vary in color 
and in the length of the tail, and, if we could only classify 
them accordingly, the difficulty would end ; but my friend, 
Professor Cope, has assured us that some are opisthocoe- 
lian, and others amphicoelian. Think of that, and fail to 
pity the poor salamanders, if you can. Then some have 
ossified tarsi and carpi, while in others these are cartilagi- 
nous. It is bewildering to contemplate, but in spite of it 
all the salamanders keep up their courage, and wriggle 
and twist, swim and dive, catch flies and sing songs, just as 
though these terrible things had never been said about 
them. 

In my rambles about home I have found four well- 
marked species of these salamanders in abundance. One 
is quite terrestrial, being content with moderately damp 
ground. Two others may be considered as " on the 
fence," it being uncertain whether wet land or running 
water suits them better, while the fourth is strictly 
aquatic. 

The first of these, and that which is strictly an aquatic 
salamander, is the pretty spotted triton. This little creat- 
ure is as much at home in the ponds and deeper ditches 
as any fish, and is far handsomer. It is green above and 
yellow beneath, and its sides are decorated with vermilion 
spots, each one of which is margined by a black ring. 
Not even the sunfish can boast a greater wealth of color. 

In its habits it is both frog- and fish-like. Early in 
the spring it comes from its winter-quarters, which I could 
never discover, and swimming in and out among the 
bunches of floating dead grass, or haunting such hardier 
growths as have not been winter-killed, it occasionally 
lifts the tip of its nose just above the surface of the 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 311 

water, and gives a clear, metallic " peep." This is not so 
loud as that of an hy lodes, or " peeper," though resem- 
bling it in other respects, nor is it so frequently repeated. 
Indeed, I have always considered it quite an event to de- 
tect a triton in the act of " peeping," and I should not 
have suspected their vocal powers if I had not heard one 
" give voice " in the aquarium, where it had been confined 
for many months. 

Like all our frogs, these salamanders lay " bunches" 
of eggs, which are attached to floating blades of grass. 
These are soon hatched, and then the young shift for 
themselves. Like all such young fry, however, they run 
but little chance of ever reaching maturity, for the mud- 
minnows, young turtles, and, in fact, every creature larger 
than themselves, inhabiting the same pond, gobble them 
up most unceremoniously. 

I am compelled to write thus briefly about them, for, 
while I have seen both the eggs and very young tritons, 
I have never watched the process by which the former 
develops into the latter. This is yearly postponed, on 
account of a press of other novelties, and now I can 
only hope to induce some one else to undertake the 
task. 

De Kay tells us that this salamander is capable of 
withstanding a low temperature, and thereby gives ground 
for the inference that other salamanders can not. This, 
I think, is not true, as they all can bear a considerable 
degree of cold, and even when frozen they have been 
known to recover promptly if thawed out very gradually. 
While hibernation is, I doubt not, a habit common to 
them all, it is certain that during what are called "open 
winters " they retain their wonted activity from Novem- 
ber to March, and this, too, without food of any kind. 
Whether they live on their fat, or whether there is some 



342 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

arrest of the natural decay of tissue, I can not say ; but I 
have often, during winter, found our semi-aquatic sala- 
manders in warm spots, possessed of their usual activity, 
and yet in localities which I supposed to be destitute at 
the time of any food-supply. My efforts to determine, 
by dissection, the contents of their stomachs during win- 
ter were not satisfactory, and I had to content myself 
with the fact that if there were any food in their stomachs 
it was in very minute quantities. 

A second species of these creatures, remarkable for its 
activity and strength, is the dusky salamander. To find 
it we must leave the muddy ditches and grass-grown 
ponds wherein the triton delights, and seek some babbling 
brook with plenty of big stones in its bed. Under these 
we are pretty sure to find this dusky species. When dis- 
turbed, away it goes with a jump and a wriggle, but not 
for any distance. The nearest hiding-place is sure to be 
its goal ; and so, with a little care, they are easily followed, 
and the slimy creatures may be captured with comparative 
ease. Small though they be, their strength is considerable, 
and, before we realize the fact, a captured "dusky" will 
pry open your closed fingers and be off. Often I have 
lost an old fellow in just this way, being unable to realize 
in time what the creature was about. 

Common as they are, I have never found their eggs, 
to my knowledge, but suppose that they are placed in 
localities like dripping moss or soaked leaves, that are 
constantly wet, and not in the running water. The young 
retain their external gills longer than do any of the other 
species found here. I had supposed that it was only for 
a year, but, according to Professor Yerrill, two years must 
elapse before they acquire the breathing-apparatus of 
adult life. 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 343 

More strictly terrestrial than the preceding is a third 
common salamander, which I find exceedingly abundant 
at times, and then a season passes when it is quite scarce. 
This is the red-backed salamander. The surest place to 
gather these is under the platform of the pump. No 
doubt now and then they plunge headlong down into 
the well ; but, as they are not brought up mangled by the 
valve or the bucket, why should we care ? I know they 
are about the pump, and suppose they are in the water we 
drink ; but this is not a disturbing fact. I remember that 
the best springs always harbor frogs ; so why not this non- 
jumping, tailed frog, for such it is. Under a board, if it 
be lying on moist earth, the " red-backs " love to linger. 
What they find to eat under there has often puzzled me, 
as I never could see any other living creature of which 
the salamanders could make a meal. There did not ap- 
pear to be any trace of minute insects, and yet these 
salamanders thrive the while. To solve this question, I tried 
an experiment, but with only negative results. Finding 
a small colony of the salamanders under a plank near the 
pump, I waited until dark, and then, by the aid of a 
bull's-eye lantern, found that when all was quiet they 
came out from their diurnal quarters and foraged in a 
very systematic manner. They scampered about as rest- 
lessly as scuttle-bugs, and I suppose were hunting for in- 
sects. When I caused the light from the lantern to fall 
directly upon them, they at once started for the plank 
from under which they had come. I did not, of course, 
see one of them catch an insect, but it was evident that 
they are nocturnal, and, being so, they must habitually 
feed at night, although they do not scorn a bit of lunch- 
eon, even if it happens to be offered during the day. 

With us the red-backed salamander lays its eggs first 
in June and then again in August. They are placed 



344 BAUBLES ABOUT HOME. 

under wet moss and leaves, and likewise under the plat- 
form of the pump. In a very few days the eggs are 
hatched, and, unlike the young " duskies," the external 
gills commence to dwindle as soon as they are fairly in 
working order, and in three or four days not a vestige of 
them is seen. 

The fourth common species, met with almost daily 
throughout the summer, is the beautiful pink, rosy, or 
red salamander. These are of all shades of red, and even 
when very old are purple. I have sometimes thought 
they had better be called the " inquisitive triton." When- 
ever the hydraulic ram, that formerly was our sole de- 
pendence for water, ceased to furnish us with the desired 
supply, I found a red salamander under the plunger. 
During the earlier years of my acquaintance with the 
pretty triton I never ceased to admire it ; but of late my 
tastes have changed. Even in midwinter, and after sun- 
down, by the light of a smoky lantern I have too often 
had to visit the troubled water-ram, and found my former 
friend, the red salamander, under the plunger. One win- 
ter, and that a hard one, satisfied me that these tritons 
are essentially inquisitive. There were individuals of 
other species roaming around at the time, and scores of 
more sensible ones, that took a long winter's nap, but 
never one of them disturbed the ram except these over- 
grown red fellows. 

I think it can scarcely be doubted that all of our sala- 
manders have voices. I have already mentioned the 
" peep " of the newt, or spotted triton. This large red 
salamander also has a clear, bell-like note, which, though 
frequently heard, is not usually recognized. It is a true 
hy lodes note, and is often attributed to the little Savan- 
nah cricket, or "peeper," already described. They call, 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 345 

whistle, or give tongue, as you choose to express it, only 
in spring, and at the time when the females are deposit- 
ing their ova. This, at least, is my impression. 

There are yet others of this family that have been 
" collected " in the neighborhood ; but here my knowl- 
edge ends. They were here, and now are — in alcohol. 
This seemed to satisfy those who w T ere fortunate enough 
to find them ; but of the value of such facts I have noth- 
ing to say. 

The Intelligence of Batrachians. 

In his recent volume on animal intelligence,"* Mr. 
Romanes devotes less than two pages to the intelligence 
of batrachians. He remarks : " On the intelligence of 
frogs and toads very little has to be said." That our 
author should have included toads in the above seems 
strange, as instances of cunning and proofs of the general 
intelligence of these animals are numerous. In conver- 
sation with practical observers of animal life, I have 
never yet found one that did not accord a marked degree 
of intelligence to toads. In short, they may readily be 
tamed, will come when called, and have been seen to 
place matter attractive to flies, their principal food, near 
their hiding-places, so they could remain at home and 
at the same time be sure of a sufficiency of food. This 
evidence of foresight on the part of toads is no uncom- 
mon occurrence, and quite effectually establishes their 
claim to a creditable degree of intelligence. 

Of the spade-foot or hermit-toad {Scaphiqpus solita- 
ries) and the tree-toad {Hyla versicolor) I have but little 
to record. The former is but rarely seen, and I have had 
no opportunity to experiment with it with a view to test-' 

* "Animal Intelligence." By George J. Romanes. (Internat. Sc. Series, 
No. xliv.) New York, D. Appleton & Co. 



316 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ing its mental capabilities. Tlie habits of the animal, as 
described by Agassiz and Putnam, would lead one to con- 
clude that intellectually they are to be classed with the 
common toad. The tree-toad, or Hyla, being crepuscu- 
lar in habits, was found difficult to study, and nothing 
was determined that bore upon the question of its intel- 
lectual capacity. I can but state my impression, which 
is, that they are not so cunning as the common toad. 

On the other hand, I am pained to confess that my 
many observations and experiments with the several spe- 
cies of true frogs found here, conducted without an inter- 
mission for four months, have yielded but little evidence 
that these creatures possess a particle of intelligence. It 
almost proved, indeed, to be labor lost — 
To perch upon a slippery log, 
And sit in judgment on a frog. 

Mr. Romanes remarks that, if frogs are removed to a 
long distance from water, they will take the shortest route 
to the nearest pool or brook. Even this, I find, is only 
usually true. Quite ten per cent of such "removed" 
frogs started off, when released, in the direction of the 
most distant water, rather than that which was nearest. 
One of my many experiments was as follows : I placed a 
pail filled with water in a dry, dusty field, burying it to 
the brim. It was protected by a cap of coarse wire siev- 
ing. I then liberated a frog within twenty yards of it. 
It hopped in the opposite direction toward water nearly 
three hundred yards distant. I then placed a frog on 
the opposite side of the buried pail, so that the distant 
brook could only be approached by passing near or directly 
over it, if the frog took a direct course. This the frog 
did, and less than a score of leaps brought it to the water 
covered by the sieve. It seemed quite satisfied with the 
fact that a little water was in sight, although out of reach. 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACKIANS. 317 

Here the frog remained until morning. The following 
day I removed the pail, and buried it within fifty yards 
of a running brook. I then took seven frogs of three 
species and placed them upon the sieve, which was about 
half an inch above the surface of the water. Here five 
of them remained during the whole day, exposed to the 
glare and heat of a cloudless midsummer day. The 
evaporation from the water beneath them barely kept 
them alive ; and yet within so short a distance was a run- 
ning brook, with all the attractive features of ideal frog- 
life. 

I repeated this experiment, with slight modifications, 
several times, and always with essentially the same re- 
sults. 

Hoping to find that in the pursuit of prey, which is 
principally insects, frogs would display some intelligence, 
I tried several experiments to test their ingenuity ; but it 
was of no avail. Unless the food could be easily reached 
by making the simple exertion of a single leap, the frogs 
would go hungry. Subsequently I placed a large fly 
upon a piece of thin mica, and surrounded it with a circle 
of fine needles, piercing the plate. The fly thus pro- 
tected could only be seized by the frog suffering a severe 
pricking of the jaws. This, I found, a frog would suffer 
indefinitely, in its attempts to secure the fly. In one in- 
stance, the frog, which had been fasting for seventy-two 
hours, continued to snap at the needle-protected fly until 
it had entirely skinned its upper jaw. I concluded from 
this that the wits of a frog were too limited to be demon- 
strated. 

Some weeks after having completed these experi- 
ments, I had the good fortune to capture two fully 
grown specimens of the bull- frog {Rana Catesbyana) ; 
and, noticing their enormously distended sides, I exam- 



34:8 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ined the stomach-contents of the two. In one was a 
full-grown chipmunk (Tamias striata) ; in the other, a 
garter- snake {Eutania sirtalis) measuring eighteen inches 
in length, and also a field-mouse (Arvicola riparia). On 
close examination I found that the snake had partially 
swallowed the mouse ; and, while thus helpless, the frog 
had evidently attacked the snake, and swallowed it. 

It is evident, I think, that the frog recognized the 
helpless condition of the snake at the time, and took ad- 
vantage of it. If so, it is evidence of a degree of intelli- 
gence on the part of the animal which the results of my 
experiments with these creatures generally had not led 
me to expect. Certainly a frog, however large, will not 
attack even a small snake if it is possessed of its usual 
activity. 

A wood-frog that I have now had for several months 
in a Wardian case shows, however, that the character of 
its accustomed haunts has necessitated the exercise of 
ingenuity to secure its food, and therefore its intelligence 
has increased beyond that of its aquatic cousins. 

I have frequently noticed, when I placed flies in the 
case, that the wood-frog singled out one, and approached 
it in a very stealthy manner, squatting closely to the 
moss, hiding behind ferns and dragging itself along, 
until it had reached a position suitable for making a suc- 
cessful leap. If the fly moved, the frog would alter its 
position accordingly, and follow up the chase with great 
patience and unquestionable skill. At times it would 
happen that some one of the smaller batrachians kept in 
the case snapped up the coveted prize, when the disgust 
of the wood-frog would be plainly shown by his manner ; 
but such an occurrence never led to a quarrel. 

The aquatic frogs do not pursue their prey with any- 
thing like the same persistency and skill, even when they 



SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 349 

undertake it at all, and I am led to believe that the intelli- 
gence of the wood-frog has been increased by its terres- 
trial environment, and that it should be ranked with the 
common toad, which has already been shown to possess 
much cunning, In other words, the wood-frog has been 
forced to search for its food to a greater degree than the 
aquatic species have been, and hunger is probably the 
most effective stimulus to the growth of intelligence. 

The salamanders, in the same way, by their active 
movements, wandering disposition, quickness of hearing, 
and other minor characteristics, give evidence of greater 
intelligence than that possessed by frogs. This I can 
state of them, however, as but little more than an impres- 
sion; for my efforts to prove them possessed of much 
cunning were not successful. The purple salamander, it 
is true, fights when captured, curving its back and snap- 
ping viciously. This no frog ever does. The common 
spotted triton (Diemyctelus) becomes quite tame when 
kept in an aquarium, and, as I found, is soon able to de- 
termine the difference between a fly held against the 
glass and one held over the svater. I frequently held a 
fly against the glass and very near the triton ; but it 
took no notice of it, after one or two efforts to seize it, 
but would follow my hand, and, when the fly was held 
over the surface of the water, the triton promptly leaped 
at and seized it. This is, indeed, but meager proof of 
intelligence, but seems to show, I think, that a salaman- 
der is more cunning than the generality of frogs, but not 
the equal of the common toad. 

My observations lead me to conclude that the habits 
of an animal have much, if not all, to do with the intel- 
lectual capacity it possesses. Frogs, as a class, are not 
migratory. They frequent a given pond or stream, and, 
sustained by the insect-life that comes to them, but is not 



350 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

sought, they pass an eventless life, trusting, as it were, to 
luck. Such an existence requires no intellectual exertion, 
and none is made. The salamanders, on the contrary, are 
far more wandering and active. They appear to be ever 
in search of food, and, when lying in wait for it, choose 
such positions as experience has taught them are best 
adapted for the purpose : at least, my studies of such 
specimens as I have kept in confinement lead me to be- 
lieve so. Intellectually, therefore, the salamanders are in 
advance of most frogs ; but the batrachians as a class, 
although higher in the scale of life than fishes, are, I be- 
lieve, inferior to them in intelligence. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 



In front of my house, with only a pleasant stretch of 
meadow intervening, flows the Delaware. To my right, 
as I stand in the doorway facing the river, I can see, here 
and there, between tall birches and bending elms, a little 
silvery gleam that marks the course of a sluggish, lily- 
choked stream which creeps slowly westward from the 
foot of the terrace to the river. It is too insignificant a 
stream to merit the attention of the geographer, though 
it is worthy of a more than passing notice from the natu- 
ralist. Its source is in a series of little springs that come 
bubbling from the foot of the terrace or " hill " near by. 
Gathering volume as it wends its way riverward, it soon 
makes for itself a well-defined channel and glides slowly 
through a stately growth of reeds that are haunted by the 
king-rail and the little sora, the swamp-sparrow and the 
marsh-wrens. Beyond, the silvery birches and drooping 
elms shade its course and offer a safe retreat to the many 
herons that find a refuge there by day ; and, in the gar- 
landed month of May, I know of no spot in which the 
fresh foliage that then decks these beautiful trees more 
delights the northward-bound warblers or so tempts them 
to tarry in its shade. Still moving onward, the little 
river enters a denser growth and widens into a deep, 
dark, weedy pond, which is still so wild, retired, and 
tempting, that the wary wild-duck does not hesitate to 



352 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

visit it, while the fish-hawk loves it well; the stately 
herons wade along its muddy shores, and the mink, musk- 
rat, and otter still make it their home. 

Still standing in my doorway, and looking to the left, 
I can trace, by the dense growth of forest-trees, a nobler 
stream, which comes from the distant " pines," and, after 
a tortuous course of many miles, is also finally lost in the 
greater volume of the seaward-flowing Delaware. Here 
we have a total change in almost every feature of the 
landscape. . The swelling tide reverses the current of the 
stream for several miles, checking the growth of lilies, 
dock, and pond-weed. Being without obstruction on one 
side, the creek overflows the level reach of marshy mead- 
ow that scarcely defines the channel. On the opposite 
bank is the steep, winding terrace that here turns to meet 
the Delaware. 

In these three streams the conditions are so different 
that we might well expect to find many fishes of many 
kinds. We are not, however, confined to these three 
streams alone, as there are scores of connecting ditches, 
and many spring- fed ponds, wherein the golden sunfish 
and the silvery minnow love to linger. 

In all these places, whether river, creek, pond, or 
ditch, there are many fishes, both great and small. Let 
us, then, go fishing — fishing, not for the purpose of catch- 
ing them, but of studying them. Many difficulties will 
beset us in this pursuit ; but we are not without means of 
overcoming them, an unlimited amount of patience being 
the prime necessity. 

The principal drawback to the study of the habits of 
fishes is, of course, our inability, under ordinary circum- 
stances, to watch them in any large body of water, or in 
streams that have a rapid current. The most that we can 
do is to see them swim past and note the simple fact of 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 353 

their presence. By the aid of aquaria we have been able 
to remedy this difficulty to some extent ; but still, if the 
habits of even our commonest fishes are to be thoroughly 
known, we must patiently pass hours by the water-side, 
and exercise our ingenuity in every way to determine 
what is going on in the depths below. One simple way 
of doing this, practicable at least in quiet ponds, is to 
insert a silvered tube, with a flaring or trumpet mouth 
protected by a glass disk, into the bottom of a boat or 
raft, and then lying down, to cover yourself with a blan- 
ket in order to exclude the light, and so quietly float 
along, looking through the submerged tube into the 
depths below. By this means you can see objects at 
great depths, especially if the sun be shining. 

I was led to try this plan, because I had read, in Hen- 
ry's " Travels in Canada," that in practically the same 
manner the Indians of that country determined the 
whereabouts of the large trout in winter, and speared 
them through holes cut in the ice. This author says : 
" In order to spear trout under the ice, holes being first 
cut of two yards in circumference, cabins of about two 
feet in height are built over them of small branches of 
trees, and these are further covered with skins, so as 
wholly to exclude the light. The design and result of 
this contrivance is to render it practicable to discern ob- 
jects in the water at a very considerable depth. ... So 
completely do the rays of light pervade the element, that 
in three-fathom water I have often seen the shadows of 
the fish on the bottom following them as they moved, 
and this when the ice itself was two feet in thickness." 

In the way that I have mentioned, years ago, I famil- 
iarized myself with the every-day life of all our commoner 
fishes ; saw what food they ate and how they procured it ; 
learned what were their enemies and how thev avoided 



354 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

them; found out what fishes were sociable and which 
were solitary ; saw abundant evidence, in short, of their 
possessing a sense of pleasure, of fear, cunning, and mem- 
ory; and with these faculties, even if exercised in the 
most primitive manner, what may we not expect of fishes 
when, without exciting their suspicion, we follow them 
patiently hour after hour ? 

In looking over the most recent faunal lists of this 
portion of the country, I find that the Delaware and its 
tributaries are credited with between fifty and sixty 
species of fishes. Some of them I know nothing about, 
albeit in one instance I am quoted as the authority for 
the presence in the Delaware of one such little fish. 
What there is in the books that more interests me is the 
fact that, of the fishes enumerated, forty-nine are found 
within the range of my quiet rambles about home. Of 
all that frequent these waters, forty-nine I am sure have 
names ; and as there may possibly be others without names, 
I am always on the lookout for them, and also for those 
that may have wandered beyond the habitat assigned 
them by the systematists. Much of our zoological litera- 
ture is, in this respect, somewhat amusing. By a precon- 
ceived notion of what should be the geographical distribu- 
tion of our fishes, and other animals as well, these " syste- 
matic " writers gravely assert that in such a river such a fish 
is found, but that it never wanders either to the eastward 
or westward. Perhaps originally this was true of our 
rivers, as the river itself determined the range of specific 
variation that has ultimately come about; but no river 
could retain all the species that originated in it. There 
are too many possible ways by which fish can be safely 
transported long distances, for us to assert that none of 
them have operated in stocking a neighboring stream with 
species not native and to the manner born. There is 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 355 

undoubted evidence on record of whirlwinds gathering 
up immense numbers of minute fish and landing them 
safely miles and miles away. These showers of fishes, 
frogs, and even salamanders, are not unknown, even if they 
are uncommon ; and strange would it be if all such wind- 
transported species should fall upon dry ground, and 
never into the water. Fertilized eggs, too, can likewise 
be blown a long distance, even over low ranges of hills 
which sometimes separate river valleys, and so give rise 
to a race of fishes that previously were unknown in the 
locality. Eggs, too, might readily adhere to the mud 
that often clings to the feet of wading birds, and would 
thus be gently replaced in a distant river, miles away from 
that in which they were deposited by the parent fish. 
The present extensive system of canals, also, has tended 
to mingle the ichthyic faunas of our various river sys- 
tems. And when all these possible, probable, and actual 
conditions are considered, it need excite no wonder if in 
any one of our rivers or its tributaries we now find occa- 
sional individuals of unsuspected species. 

In taking up the consideration of our several fishes 
separately, it will be well to follow some definite method, 
and therefore I shall treat them in the order in which 
they are named in the later systems. The one which heads 
the list, in a little hand-book by my side — Jordan's " Man- 
ual of Vertebrates " — is the " hog-fish " ; and it is of this 
that I will first speak. Why it is so called I can not say, 
as it surely has neither the habits nor the appearance of 
any hog that I have ever seen. It belongs to a family of 
most curious fishes, known collectively as " darters," or 
etheostomoids, and I prefer to call this one the "sand- 
perch." These " darters " have been well described as pre- 
ferring " clear, running water, where they lie on the bot- 



356 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

torn concealed under stones (not always), darting, when 
frightened or hungry, with great velocity for a short dis- 
tance by a powerful movement of the fan-shaped pectoral 
fins, then stopping as suddenly .... All are carnivorous, 
and, in their way, voracious." 

There are several species of these darters found in 
oar streams. Of this I am well convinced ; but I have 
not so surely identified more than two. Of these, the 
larger is the sand-perch. To find it, we must hunt some 
little bed of clean sand among the rocks of the river, and 
sharp eyes will be required to detect it, even when we 
are sure of its whereabouts. Here, resting on the sand, it 
remains "stock still/' and one would almost think it 
dead; but let a shadow pass over it even, or a baby 
crayfish dare to come near, and, like a flash of light, both 
fish and little crustacean have disappeared. Often, when 
fishing for perch, I have leaned over the side of the boat, 
and, scanning closely every square inch of sand, have final- 
ly caught a glimpse of a sand-perch. The perch proper 
would be for the time forgotten, and the little etheosto- 
moid, or darter, command all my attention. No matter if 
the sun did burn my neck, or the larger fish were biting 
eagerly : the chance was too good to lose, and down into 
the depths I would gaze while the little fish remained. 
If nothing eatable came by, the darter would be content 
to remain idle ; but this does not long continue, for sooner 
or later some little speck, one could not tell what, would 
float by, and with a jerk, jump, twist, and wiggle, that 
speck had gone — so, too, the darter. This indeed about 
covers my knowledge of its habits — at least, so far as I 
have seen it in the river, for I know nothing as to where 
and when it lays its eggs. Under different and some- 
what peculiar circumstances, however, I have several times 
met with this little darter, and these instances merit a 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 357 

moment's notice. With the incoming tide that makes up 
Cross wicks Creek, a score or more of these darters will 
often stray into each of the little depressions in, the 
adjoining meadows which are slowly covered by the 
steadily increasing volume of water. These depressions 
are the faint channels through which the last ripples of 
the receding waters retire, and are often irregular from 
the little sand-ridges which the currents and cross-trick- 
lings form, and also are often dotted with regular, cup- 
shaped holes where the cows have chanced to pass over 
the wet sand. At high tide all is serene, and the hungry 
darters gayly pass to "fresh fields and pastures new" 
confident of a goodly feast on the myriad insects that the 
encroaching waters have entrapped. But soon a change 
comes over the spirit of their realities — for, if fishes do 
not sleep, they can not dream — and all unheeding of the 
fickleness of the tide, they soon find themselves left, not 
high and dry indeed, but in the little treacherous holes 
and hollows in the sand and short grass from which the 
waters crept so stealthily that their suspicion was never 
aroused. Slowly, too, this lingering water is sinking away 
in the loose sand, and the burning sun above makes them 
all the more uncomfortable. " What shall I do ? " each 
and every one asks, not in so many words, but by so 
many acts. Around the little shadow of a pond they 
jerkily crawl, but find no watery outlet. Then, as they 
quietly contemplate their fix, they find themselves, not 
short of breath, but of water, and, willing to trust to luck, 
they give a mighty jump, knowing that they can get 
in no worse position on the other side of the pitiless 
ridge of sand that surrounds them. Do they see the re- 
ceding waters in the distance, as they leap over the sandy 
ridges and from hollow to hollow, or do they smell the 
water or hear it flow ? At all events, they jump gener- 



358 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ally creekward, and soon find larger pools, and then still 
larger, until again they can swim, and away they scatter 
over the sandy bed of the beautiful creek that has served 
them such a trick. 

The sand-perch can not always escape as easily as I 
have described. The birds have learned at last to know 
of the mishap that so often occurs to them, and the pur- 
ple grakles, the red-winged blackbirds, the little bittern, 
and the fish-crows do not fail to hasten to the bared 
sands as the tide goes down, and cut short the career of 
these little fish while on their forced overland journeys. 

Most curious of all, however, is the means adopted by 
some of the fish to escape the inconvenience caused by the 
treacherous tide and the attacks of the birds to which 
they are at the same time subjected. With a desperate 
wriggle they will displace a portion of sand, and burrow 
so far downward that they reach a spot sufficiently moist 
to sustain life, although without a drop of accessible free 
water. Here, patiently or impatiently, one can scarcely 
say which, they await the return of good times, of in- 
creasing waters, of jolly high tide. Perhaps they are 
not to be caught thus a second time, though it is pos- 
sible that they may be ; and, if so, why is not an occurrence 
like this the starting-point in a change of habits which 
will ultimately result in accustoming them to mud and 
sand, like the mud-minnow (of which more anon)? 

The other darter, or sand-perch, common to these 
waters is a smaller fish, so small that its presence is often 
unsuspected. Like its cousin, the " hog-fish," it can not 
swim more than three or four " strokes " before it has 
either to come to a standstill, or at any rate put " one 
foot on bottom,''' as boys do when learning the same art. 

While not averse to trying its fortune even in the river, 
this little fish — Olmsted's darter — wanders indefinitely 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 359 

up-stream, and no puddle is too small for him, provided 
it always holds water. They have no more fancy for a 
sun-bath than the preceding. Where I have found 
them in greatest abundance, is in a little shallow just off 
the main channel of the smaller creek I have mentioned 
in a foregoing page. There is here a muddy bottom, 
with a thin superstratum of fine sand upon it. No per- 
ceptible current flows over it, and the little darters, faint- 
ly marking the sand whenever they come to a rest, can 
be tracked by these little impressions. Here I have seen 
hundreds of them quietly resting on their leg-like fins 
and waiting, not for something to turn up, but to come 
near r when they are up and at it. They do not, how- 
ever, depend on such a slim chance for a sufficiency of 
food, as they are as carnivorous as crocodiles and have 
the digestion of an ostrich. Their predilection for these 
quiet, watery by-ways seems to be brought about by the 
habits of other animals, which, bringing their food to 
these retreats to enjoy it at leisure, always leave innu- 
merable fragments for the benefit of the darters. In- 
deed, these fish do not wait always for the crumbs that 
may fall from some mightier creature's table, as I have 
often seen them crowd around some happy turtle that 
had brought a fish or fragment of flesh to this shallow in 
order to dine in peace. The little darters, however, did 
not wait to be invited, but, standing at the other end of 
the fish or flesh, would give it little tugs and nips while 
the turtle was busily engaged in biting off larger mouth- 
fuls. These darters are the most persistent egg-hunters 
anywhere to be found, and, in spite of the vigilance of 
the parent fish, will dart in and out and swallow the eggs 
that have been laid and placed with so much care. Many 
fishes so place their eggs that they are not accessible to 
the darters ; but when laid in the sand, as the sunfish do, 



360 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

or among loose pebbles only, the darters can readily find 
them, and they quickly devour all they discover. Were 
it not for this unfortunate habit, these little fish would 
merit our kindly consideration, as they help, to a certain 
extent, in keeping pure the waters of the streams they 
frequent. 

I have said there are but two kinds of darters in 
our waters. I meant but two of whose identification I 
was sure. There is, or was, a third. Some years ago, 
in a pretty stream, which my neighbors persist in calling 
the " Ten-foot Ditch," I found a few crimson-marked 
specimens, that were wholly unlike the others, playing 
on and in silvery white sand. The following autumn i 
the crimson markings had become dull brown, but 
the little cylindrical bodies were of the same shape, 
and the ridiculous efforts of the little fishes at natatorial 
locomotion were just as absurd. A few of these I bot- 
tled, and they were pronounced to be the Hololepis ero- 
chrous. I was glad to find they had a name; but since 
then, ten years ago, I have been too busy to use it, and 
find that " crimson darter " meets all my needs. 

Passing on, in two ways, to a new page of the faunal 
list and to deep waters, we come at once to what has 
always seemed, and really is, a model fish. It is com- 
plete in every feature, and there is nothing flabby about 
it, like a sucker or roach ; nor is it out of date and clumsy, 
like a gar-pike. I mean the yellow perch. 

So far as I have been able to follow it, this fish re- 
mains throughout its first year, and often for many years, 
in the stream in which it was hatched. Of course, where 
it happens that the ova has been deposited in some little 
out-of-the-way brook which grows smaller as the summer 
passes, then the young perch will find their way into 
deeper and cooler waters ; but they do not wander far 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 361 

from their birth-place. For instance, many perch leave 
the Delaware, and, seeking out suitable localities in the 
tributaries that have an uninterrupted outlet, deposit 
their ova in such smaller streams. 

This perch, then, may be said to be a strictly resident 
species. There is not a month in the year, or week in 
any month, when they may not be found. Not always 
are they so evidently abundant as in spring and summer ; 
but they have not wandered far, and only a little closer 
search is needed to spy them out. If we go a-fishing 
only in the river, the impression of the rarity of yellow 
perch will soon become fixed in the mind ; but this arises 
not so much from the actual scarcity, as from the fact 
that they do not bite at a hook as readily as when in the 
still waters of our ponds. The nets, however, tell the 
story, and prove that they are in the river, and abundant- 
ly too, in spite of the firm belief of the line-fisher that 
" there are no yellow perch in the river." When it comes 
to comparing perch with sunfish, on the other hand, it is 
evident that, however abundant relatively they are in any 
of the neighboring streams, they are far outnumbered by 
these less desirable percoids. 

What the maximum size of a yellow perch may be Is 
as yet undetermined. I never have seen a monster 
among them, but my neighbors report a supermonstrous 
one, and so I leave the question open. I have knowledge 
of one caught in the Delaware that weighed four pounds 
and a quarter. This I mentioned once in the fish-market ; 
but the old gray-beards there sniffed contemptuously, and 
told marvelous tales of the wonderful size of the perch 
they had caught. Such fish, however, never get to mar- 
ket, and the tales need not be repeated. 

The yellow perch appears to be equally at home in 
very different localities. As a still-water pond fish, if 

16 



362 



RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



there is a fair supply of spring water, they thrive excel- 
lently ; but the largest specimens I have ever seen were 
either from the river or from the outlets of the larger in- 
flowing creeks. Occasionally they have been found in 
very shallow waters ; but the attraction was very evident : 
they were following up the millions of small minnows 
which frequent all the smaller brooks. Indeed, with all 
our perches it is the story of the blue-fish and moss- 
bunkers of our sea-coast over again. They chase the small 
fish upon which they feed even to such shallow waters 
that they are themselves occasionally entrapped. If not 
feeding, then deep water is preferred, and often I have 
seen numbers of them resting apparently upon the bed 
of the stream, side by side, and all with their heads up- 
stream, just as, in August, one may see often a closely- 
packed mass of crimson red-fins in a deep pool of some 
rapidly flowing brook. Still, as such scenes are not com- 
mon among the perch the year through, perhaps they can 
best be described as a semi-social fish. Without going 
in schools, as do the herrings, they are usually found to- 
gether in considerable numbers, though this association 
perhaps results rather from the attractiveness of the lo- 
cality than from any pleasure in associating with their 
own kind. This is one of those impressions that a close 
observer will sometimes get without being able to adduce 
any evidence of the fact. At all times these perch free- 
ly associate with other percoids in the same manner as 
with individuals of their own kind. Thus a single yel- 
low perch will often be found with a school of white 
perch or of rock-fish, or there may be a mixed company 
of the three kinds in very unequal numbers. 

As the pursuit of food is the one prominent object of 
their restless lives, of course all the fishes of a given 
pond or stream, having like habits, will be brought close- 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 363 

]y together. "While we find that hawks of different kinds 
will often quarrel when chance brings them together, and 
the same may be said of carnivorous mammals, it does 
not appear that this is the case among fishes. I have 
never seen anything on the part of any of our perches 
that indicated anger, and certainly never saw a " fight 
going on " among them. Fish generally are very playful ; 
but this never ends in a row, so far as I have seen. 

A far more interesting fish than the preceding, be- 
cause there is a mystery about its breeding habits, is the 
rock-fish, striped bass, and " streaked snapper," as this 
percoid is variously called. For years I thought I knew 
this fish thoroughly, but it seems not — at least, so far as 
being able to say when and where it breeds ; but of this 
hereafter. 

Nearly two centuries ago Gabriel Thomas mentions 
Rock among our fishes as one of the goodly sorts that ac- 
quired great size. This is true of them still; but it is 
not common now to find them weighing twenty pounds or 
more. It is accounted now good fishing to catch many 
weighing twenty ounces. Even longer ago, one Mahlon 
Stacy, who settled the spot now called Trenton, recorded 
his fishing experiences, and, in the course of that account, 
he says : " We have great plenty of most sorts of fish that 
ever I saw in England, besides several others that are not 
known there, as rocks, cat-fish, shads, sheep's-heads, and 
sturgeon." This is the earliest reference to the fish in 
the Delaware that I can find. 

At present the rock-fish is found not only in the river, 
but in such inflowing creeks as have water sufficient for it 
to swim. "When very young it delights in wandering 
into little streams to catch the myriads of small min- 
nows that congregate in the eddies of every brook. 



364 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Just as the larger fish feed upon shiners in the river, " at 
the turn of the tide/' so too do little rock-fish, scarcely 
two inches in length, gather about still smaller shiners, 
and capture them as dexterously, and devour them as 
voraciously, as ever did an adult fish. Prior to the erec- 
tion of the dam near the mouth of the Assunpink Creek, 
at Trenton, the rock-fish ascended this creek, as I found 
bones of this fish in considerable quantity in an Indian 
shell-heap three miles above the outlet. It still passes 
up Crosswicks Creek in large numbers, entering it at 
Bordentown, and going as far as the dam at Groveville ; 
and if I were not assured of the contrary, I would say 
that these rock-fish spawned in this creek. It seems, 
however, that such is not the case. In the course of a 
day's ramble, March 2, 1879, I met with an experienced 
fisherman, and questioned him closely about these fish. 
Here are his words, taken down while he was talking : 

" The young rock-fish are very common, from one to 
three inches long, in shallow water along the river shore, 
where they swim about with little minnies, on which 
they keep a-feedin', sometimes eatin' a fish as big as 
themselves. 

" The old rock-fish keep goin' up the river from early 
spring until late in summer, and in October and Novem- 
ber, accordin' as it is a late or early fall, come down the 
river in large numbers. In winter, or very early in spring, 
they are often found in deep holes in ' gangs.' In a 
hole near Newbold's Island, with one drag of a net in a 
deep hole, one hundred and fifty weight were taken, 
rangin' from five to seventeen pounds weight. I never 
saw a rock-fish with roe in it, as I remember, but young 
ones are common so small that I'd a supposed they were 
hatched here in the river. Perhaps they go down to the 
bay, and the young come up from there, like as we see 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 365 

the young eels a-doin' in spring, when the stones are 
black with 'em often. 55 

This is what I got from a professional fisherman, who, 
to again use his words, " had fished these waters about 
here for just fifty-seven years come next summer." 

I had based my impression, that the rock-fish bred " in 
these waters," solely on the evidence of young, apparently 
too feeble to have come from such a distance — fully one 
hundred miles ; but it seems they did come from some- 
where down the river. At all events, they get into tide- 
water creeks very early in life, and, as the old fisherman 
told me and I have myself noticed, they remain here 
pretty much the year round. Still, we can not call them 
resident species in the sense of non-migratory fishes. 
This they are not. Possibly no one individual remains 
very long in one locality, but no sooner does one depart, 
than another takes its place. Like the robins among our 
birds, they are restless and wandering, but not method- 
ically migratory. 

The food of the rock-fish consists exclusively of small 
shiners or cyprinoids ; and it is the pursuit of them into 
small streams that explains their presence in places where 
one would hardly expect to find them. A rock-fish will 
frequently "corner up" a small school of shiners, and 
then pick them up as rapidly and with as great ease as a 
fowl will pick grains of corn, and, while devouring the 
luckless minnows, it will keep them all the time huddled 
together in a small space. There is no cessation of this 
murderous work while a shiner remains, for, after de- 
vouring all that it is possible for it to eat, a mere love of 
destruction keeps the rock-fish still at work. 

I once had a very favorable opportunity for watching 
one of these fishes feed in this manner. It was of mod- 
erate size, being about twelve inches in length. As near- 






366 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ly as I could determine, it devoured twelve silver-fins — a 
fish about three inches long — in four minutes. If I err 
in my estimate, it is on the safe side, as it may have been 
fifteen that were devoured in that length of time. Sub- 
sequently I captured a dozen of these exquisite minnows, 
and found that I could not squeeze them into a mass of 
the size of a rock-fish one foot in length ; and yet the 
fish did not appear to be distended, though in this case 
it is very certain that the captured minnows were swal- 
lowed without preliminary decapitation or other reduc- 
tion of size, for in that case I should have seen the 
fragments floating in the clear water. 

A third perch, but one which no longer reaches the 
size that it did in the days of our grandfathers, is the 
well-known white perch, or " river-bass." As a little fish, 
measuring but an inch or little more, it makes its appear- 
ance in the river in schools of thousands. Preying upon 
the equally abundant minnows of the same stream, they 
grow with great rapidity, and by August are very gamy, 
and large enough for " pan fish." This is the brief, prosy 
history of a splendid fish. 

Years ago I was satisfied that both the white perch 
and rock-fish spawned in the clear, cold, upper waters of 
the river and in certain of the tributary creeks. This, it 
seems, is not the case. Just where they breed is a ques 
tion not yet answerable ; but the " somewhere " is at some 
distance from the supposed spot, and the little fish, newly 
hatched, or at least comparatively young, come up the 
river early in spring, and, once here, remain for more or 
less time, according to the character of the season, abun- 
dance of food, and other causes. One point, however, in 
their habits needs to be dwelt upon in this connection : 
fish with well-developed ova are frequently found in the 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 367 

river in May and June. It is now thought that these ova 
are carried until late in autumn, and then deposited on 
the accustomed spawning-grounds, supposed to be some- 
where in the lower bay. 

Both the rock-fish and white perch, then, must be 
classed with the migratory fishes, and therefore are wide- 
ly different from the yellow perch, which is a resident. 
This can live and thrive in any pond, and exhibits little 
taste for extensive rambling, at least as compared with 
the others. 

Both the rock-fish and white perch, nevertheless, can 
be "land-locked," and individually they will thrive in 
this condition if provided with unlimited food. That 
they would breed, when thus " land-locked," is doubtful. 

The latest results of studies of pickled " sunnies " — a 
shapeless mass of faded and distorted fish, half preserved 
in weak alcohol, or bleached and bent by too strong 
spirits — is that in the Delaware valley there are eight 
species. Of these some are unmistakable, for among 
sunfish, or Centrarchidce, are included the black bass, 
goggle-eyed perch, the mud sunfish, the " copper-bellies," 
as well as the " sunnies " proper, all of which are familiar 
to every boy in the country. About one or two so- 
called species we need not now concern ourselves, as they 
float in pickle, but do not swim in fresh water ; and it is 
only with those that can be found any day in the week 
that we are interested. 

However, let us follow the faunal list in the manual 
at hand, and consider seriatim some of our sunfish 
proper. 

Heading the list is a most interesting and well-defined 
species, the mud sunfish. 

In one of my neighbor's meadows there is a deep 



368 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ditch, which a century of freshets has widened and deep- 
ened, until now it has all the appearance of a spring 
pond. A growth of birches hides it from view until we 
reach the very shade of the trees, and all the summer 
the water is quite concealed by a marvelously rank 
growth of splatter-dock and white lilies. Upward from 
these lily-buds and dock-leaves extends a slimy black 
log, that is now worn as smooth as ebony by the friction 
of turtles' feet and shells ; for here every day through- 
out the summer rest all the turtles that can crowd upon 
it. The banks of this pond or ditch are steep and high, 
of a stiff clay, and burrowed through and through by the 
colony of muskrats that are known to dwell here, but 
which are seldom seen, and are too cunning to be caught. 
Much as there is here, in broad daylight, to be seen and 
enjoyed, I often pass all by, and drag a scoop-net among 
the weeds, in the expectation of making some rare "finds." 
Nor am I often disappointed. Among the curious ob- 
jects I bring to light from these weedy depths is this 
mud sunfish. Dull brown and black, with gilt, green, 
and bronze reflections, it is a pretty fish, seen at its best, 
and one worth careful study. A glance shows that it is 
unlike the ordinary sunfish. Longer in body, with more 
spines in the fins above and below, and a generally bass- 
like appearance, it gives the impression of a gamy fish, 
and this it really is. 

Inasmuch as all fishes in the breeding season are more 
interesting than during the other eleven months of the 
year, it is desirable to know all about them in this par- 
ticular month. So far as I am concerned, this month 
will have to be passed over in silence. I never could 
find their nests, although I have stirred up acres of mud 
in search of them. Stranger still, I never could find any 
very young specimens — none that were less than six 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 369 

months old. Certainly, the mud sunfish is cunning in 
hiding her nest and eggs, and the young fry know well 
how to keep out of the way. As other desiderata in 
zoology have been gathered up when least expected, so, 
too, in this case I suppose I shall stumble across the 
nest and young some day when looking for other objects. 

That the spawn is deposited in spring is evident from 
the condition of the females in April. In May, too, I 
have noticed that the metallic luster of the male fish is 
more marked than later in summer. 

In February, 1875, I placed three fine specimens of 
this fish in a large aquarium. The colors of the two 
males were then very bright, and it seemed as if they 
were aware of the fact, as they moved about in a stately 
manner, endeavoring, I believe, to attract the attention 
of the female. Except on such occasions, these fish are 
dull and listless. I noticed that my aquarium specimens 
much of the time assumed a perpendicular position, head 
down and tail up, in a bunch of river-weed. The fins 
were without perceptible motion. One of my specimens 
retained this head-down and tail-up position for forty 
minutes, and, when driven from his bunch of weed, 
swam about very listlessly, resuming this strange posi- 
tion as soon as I would let him. A curious freak in 
coloration also was noticed at this time. Occasionally I 
would go to the aquarium and find every tint had paled 
into an indefinite dull yellow. Not a trace of metallic 
luster remained, and even the black bands were at best 
but a dull brown. Forced exercise, however, brought 
back the color. At such a time I would cause them to 
swim rapidly from end to end of the tank, and the result 
was a restoration of the normal tints. It proved to be 
with them, as with children, that a good lively romp 
brings a deeper glow to the surface. This sudden change 



370 RAMBLES ABO UT HOME. 

of color in fishes is of much interest in connection with 
the subject of sexual selection ; but as this fish is noctur- 
nal in its habits, I can scarcely believe that on this one 
occasion in the year, when it is active and abroad by 
day, it is seeking the clearest water and direct sunlight 
for the better display of its peculiar metallic tints. Cer- 
tainly the fish does not require this particular coloring as 
a means of protection, for it has now no enemies. The 
significance of the color is not known ; but the fact that 
the fish has some control over it, as the deepening and 
fading out clearly shows, leaves no room for doubting 
that it has some important bearing on the habits of the 
species, and that it is of great influence in the courtship 
of fishes is therefore highly probable. 

During succeeding summers I have several times 
floated over weedy patches in the little creek near by, 
and detected mud sunfish resting in the river-weed. It 
was the same old story of my aquarium specimens. In 
every instance these fish were in the remarkable position 
I have mentioned ; not, indeed, in every case perpen- 
dicular, but always closely approaching it, and with the 
head downward. 

I once had the good fortune to observe a large speci- 
men of this fish making its way toward deeper water 
through such a dense mass of aquatic vegetation that the 
greater part of the time it was actually out of the water, 
apparently creeping among the w r eeds by the aid of its 
ventral fins. It progressed in this awkward manner fully 
three feet, keeping the body in a position as nearly up- 
right as when swimming. On subsequent examination 
I found that a large log was deeply imbedded in the mud, 
with less than half an inch of w 7 ater flowing over it ; and 
it was this barrier that caused the fish to imitate success- 
fully the reptile-like movements that I had witnessed. 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 371 

Like most fishes that habitually frequent weedy and 
muddy waters, this sunfish is really nocturnal in its 
habits, and it is for this reason that it is so little known. 
Like all other nocturnal fishes, too, it has a well-developed 
voice; but of this hereafter. In a subsequent chapter 
this subject will be treated of at length ; and the mud- 
sunfish will again come under our notice. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. (CONTINUED.) 

The next sunfish mentioned in the " Manual " as one 
of the Delaware River species is that known by me as a 
" brass-belly." My angling friends always call it the 
" river sunfish," and this name covers an important fact in 
its history. It is emphatically a river species, and very 
seldom wandrers out of it. Years ago, when I first dared 
go a-fishing, my companion, whom I looked upon as a sec- 
ond Cuvier, once suggested that we go to the river for 
"brass-bellies," and the success of the day's fishing was 
such that I have never forgotten it, or the name that Bob 
gave these sunfish. Then, too, on our return we were met 
by a colored fisherman of great experience, who paused 
to admire " the string " we were carrying homeward, and 
he corrected my companion by asserting that we had 
caught " big-ears," and not " brass-bellies." However, I 
was not convinced, and I still adhere to the name given 
them by my companion, though the other is equally de- 
scriptive and more refined. In considering the signifi- 
cance of color with reference to the preceding species, 
it will be remembered that two facts were prominently 
noticed in regard to the mud sunfish — the absence of con- 
spicuous coloring and its nocturnal habits. In the case 
of the "river sunfish," or brass-belly, there is, on the 
contrary, very conspicuous coloring, and its habits are 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 373 

diurnal. It has a green back, red vertical fins, and a 
bright yellow-red belly, with deep blue on the sides, blue 
stripes on the head, and a long, velvety black ear-flap. 
Now, the spring and summer through, this fish seeks 
clear, running water, and therein sports the day long, 
leading very much a butterfly-like existence. 

In April, the colors, always bright, are more brilliant 
than ever, and it is at this time that it becomes evident 
that the fish realizes what color is, and puts to good use 
all the attractions that sexual selection has evolved. 
Seeking some female of its kind, it displays itself by a 
series of graceful manoeuvres, which are highly entertain- 
ing even to outsiders. Passing to and fro before the 
desired female, the fish will at times swim upon one side 
so that the sunlight will strike directly upon the brilliant 
blue and crimson hues, and then, suddenly regaining its 
ordinary position, it will spread all its fins to their utmost 
and sail majestically by, giving the spectators the impres- 
sion of a larger fish than it really is. This is kept up, I 
think, for several days, and, if not interrupted by the in- 
trusion of a rival, results in a graceful acceptance. Here 
I am puzzled, for, as often as I have watched these fish, I 
never could detect any movement that would warrant me 
in interpreting it as a sign of acceptance. Indeed, it is 
highly probable that they have means of communicating 
ideas by movements so slight as to escape our closest 
scrutiny. In the spring of 1873 I noticed one of these 
river sunfish endeavoring to make a favorable impression 
upon a female. Whether she paid any attention to the 
nervously active gallant, I can not tell ; I only know that 
she remained stationary for hours, while the male passed 
up and down, and from side to side, almost as steadily as 
clock-work. If disturbed, away they both would dart, 
but only to return in a few moments, each to resume its 



374 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

former position, the one being apparently a quiet specta- 
tor of the graceful submarine gymnastics of the other. 
This continued from Sunday until Wednesday, when both 
fish disappeared, and were found soon after building a 
nest some fifty yards distant. 

Like all nest-building fishes, the river sunfish is very 
pugnacious while it has a nest under its care, and will 
defend it against every intruder. Not always is it suc- 
cessful in this, I am sorry to say, but it is never cowardly, 
even when turtles and snakes invade its retreat. Indeed, 
I have seen a red-bellied turtle seize the sunfish, when 
too bold in its attack, and tear it nearly to pieces. The 
worst enemy, however, of the sunfish at such a time is 
one of the little darters, already mentioned, which rushes in 
among the eggs without being noticed, and then is off 
and half-buried in the sand before the harassed sunfish 
can arrest him. 

When the young fish are about one third of an inch 
in length — and about as broad as they are long — they are 
left to shift for themselves, and they are quite equal to 
the demands made upon them. What they find to eat, I 
can not say ; but their quick movements, as they dart rest- 
lessly about, clearly show that they find something, and 
know how to secure it. The young fish of each season 
remain together for a year or more, and only become 
widely separated as their steady growth demands more 
extended feeding-grounds. This requires each brood 
finally to scatter ; but if sufficient food were at hand, 
these fish would probably remain in close companies, as 
they appear to be a very social fish. Certainly, mated 
fishes possess a strong mutual affection, and many instances 
have occurred under my own notice that indicated this 
most unquestionably. I have further proved it by cruel 
experiments, which will be mentioned hereafter. 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 375 

Occasionally the allied blue sunfish, or "copper- 
nosed bream," has been found in the Delaware. The 
first of these I found in 1874, and since then I have seen 
but two, until last August (1881), when one was caught 
in Crosswicks Creek. Somehow, through the canals or 
otherwise, these fish have reached our river vallev. Here 
they are, and this is all I know about them. 

The common sunfish, the "sunny " par excellence, is 
next in the list. How many entries in my note-books 
refer to this fish I have not time to count ; but I never 
went to Watson's Creek without seeing hundreds of them, 
and never came home that I didn't "put it down." It 
was not, however, always a mere sight of the fish, and 
nothing more, as I sometimes had glimpses of its habits, 
and followed it up until I learned some new fact. Such 
days were not lived in vain. 

It happens that at what is called the " bend " in "Wat- 
son's Creek there grows an enormous elm, the gnarled 
and twisted roots of which extend out into the clear 
water — clearer for the spring that here bubbles up from 
the bed of the stream. Given this combination of creek, 
spring, and tree, and the fourth feature, a pair of sunfish, 
is not likely to be wanting. At all events, in this case 
there is always a patriarchal sunfish and his mate living 
in state among these elm-roots; and a very interesting 
fact is here to be noticed at the outset. They are not 
merely paired for the season, but remain a faithful and 
loving couple all the year and for several years. One 
such pair did so live, I know, and I believe the same may 
be said of them all, at least when they are large enough 
to gain possession of some such nook as I have mentioned 
and can hold it against all intruders. Their worst ene- 
mies are men and boys, of course, for juvenile anglers in 



376 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

particular are prone to find these aged " sunnies," and 
exercise all their ingenuity to capture them. Here comes 
in the evidence of affection on the part of these fishes. 
If one of them is hooked, the mate is at once aware of 
the fact, and is prompt to seize the same fatal hook, as 
though unwilling to be left alone and anxious to follow 
its companion even to death. Why, it may be asked, is 
it not a simple case of "good luck" on the part of the 
angler ? Two fishes were in the same " hole," and both 
were caught — the same bait that deceived the one deceiv- 
ing the other. This is a rational explanation of such an 
occurrence ; but, in my own angling experience, I have 
found that it is only by great care and much ingenuity 
that these large fish can be induced to bite ; then, if one 
is hooked, the other follows it to the surface of the water, 
and is evidently excited and distressed, and, unlike its un- 
fortunate mate, bites savagely at the hook as soon as it 
is replaced in the water. It seizes the hook either in re- 
venge, or because it realizes that by so doing it can fol- 
low its companion. I consider the facts of the move- 
ments of the two fishes — the wariness of the one first 
captured, the recklessness of the other — and deduce from 
it that the psychology of fishes is no myth, but that in 
such an instance as here given there is evidence of dis- 
trust, and of anger, revenge, recklessness, and deep affec- 
tion. These traits — one shown by one of the fishes, and 
the others by its mate — lead me to conclude that the life 
of a fish is by no means a mere mechanical, joyless exist- 
ence. In fact, one need but look straight into the eye 
of a large pike, to be satisfied that that fish is every whit 
as wicked in his thoughts as he is in appearance, for pike 
do think, as every one who has angled for them will, I 
think, admit. 

To see our common sunfish at their best, it is neces- 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 377 

sary to hunt up their nests in May. Then everything 
concerning them is intensified. Their colors are bright- 
er, their movements more active, and every feature of 
their surroundings is furbished up and new. The mud 
of the spring freshets has all floated away or settled to 
the bottom of the pond ; the water-plants are not too 
rank to conceal the fishes' haunts ; and the foliage of the 
overhanging trees is fresh, bright, and not too dense for 
straggling sunbeams to penetrate. One of the " sights " 
at this time, if we direct our steps to the creek, is the 
row of sunfish-nests along the shore. This fish at this 
time has a horror of dirt, and every speck other than fine, 
clean sand is carefully removed from the shallow circular 
depressions which constitute their nests. Now, it often 
happens that the available places for such nests are not 
everywhere along the bank of the creek, but that short 
stretches, here and there, only can be utilized. These 
are fully occupied, the nests being at times but a foot or 
two apart ; and, when a comprehensive glance can be had, 
they look like a row of rusty pie-plates just beneath the 
water. In these nests both fishes will often be, and yet 
scarcely recognizable when seen from above. All the 
gorgeous coloring is confined to their sides and bellies ; 
the back, being a dull green, blends well with the sur- 
roundings and the color of the water. This fact would 
afford them protection from such enemies as might be 
above them, though there are none such now, unless, per- 
haps, a stray otter or mink might happen to be near. 
Doubtless, in the long ago of primeval forests and abun- 
dant wild-cats and fisher-martens, this green color was 
of much value to sunfish as a protection against surprise ; 
but that time has long passed, and now their enemies are 
gone, except the pin-hook and tow-string anglers of recent 
times, though these again are generally too bungling to 



378 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

be dangerous. The nests are usually occupied for a space 
of four weeks, when the parent fishes relinquish their 
cares, and leave the young "sunnies," now more like 
flakes of jelly than bony fishes, to shift for themselves. 

One curious feature of the habits of sunfish, while 
nesting, is worthy a moment's notice. I have mentioned 
that often many nests are in a row and near each other. 
The occupants of the several nests do not molest each 
other, and never intrude beyond the limits of their own 
" homes." They have but one direction open to them, 
and this is to the deep water directly in front. Into this, 
when they leave the nest, the sunfish dart with great ra- 
pidity. Often this constant going and coming wears a 
path along the mud and through the weeds, which can be 
readily traced for some distance. The return to the nest 
is as rapid and direct as the exit. Each fish, wherever it 
may go, has some point which is recognized as the termi- 
nus of the lane leading to the nest, and, having found this, 
it speeds up the narrow pathway with incredible velocity, 
and stops as suddenly just at or in the nest. Then the 
other, as quickly and in the same manner, departs, leav- 
ing the nest in charge of its mate. 

Here we have evidence of the " sense of direction," 
which is very remarkable. There is usually a dense 
growth of pond-weed or splatter-dock between the nest 
and the channel or deepest water of the creek or pond. 
How, when the parent fish is in this clear, deep water, it 
can tell the exact position of its nest, and swim directly 
to it, is a mystery ; yet this they are unquestionably able 
to do. However well defined the pathway or lane lead- 
ing from the nest may be, it necessarily " fades out," as it 
were, as the deeper water is neared ; but it would seem 
as though there were some landmark that the fish recog- 
nized. If this is not the case, and it is difficult to believe, 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 379 

may we not ascribe to them the possession of a so-called 
" sense of direction " working independently and unerr- 
ingly, without regard to any features of the surround- 
ings ? Such a sense, indeed, the sunfish seems to possess. 
The possession of a sense of direction is also shown by 
such experiments as the following : I once carefully re- 
moved a sunfish from its nest, and carried it one thou- 
sand feet up the stream, when I set it at liberty. Between 
the nest and the point where I placed the fish there were 
two abrupt bends in the creek, so that it formed a letter 
Z between the points mentioned. I hastened back to the 
nest : but the fish was there before me. I then took a 
fish from an adjoining nest, and carried it nearly one 
thousand yards down the stream. In this case there were 
two bends in the stream, and it was also partially ob- 
structed by old abandoned flood-gates. I hurried back to 
the nest, and reached it only three minutes before the 
fish returned. I have since made many similar experi- 
ments, and all with essentially the same results. 

When nesting, the fact that fishes are affectionate can 
be readily proved ; but the experiment is cruel, and I 
trust will not be tried. It is merely to hook one of the 
nesting fish, and, when dead or dying, place it in the 
nest. I tried it once, and will certainly never repeat it. 
The evidences of grief on the part of the distressed and 
bewildered widowed fish were truly affecting. 

A few words with reference to this fish as a weather 
prophet. The old men of the neighborhood frequently 
speak of them in this connection, and undertake to fore- 
tell whether the coming summer will be wet or dry, from 
the fact that their nests are sometimes in water a foot in 
depth, while at others less than one half this depth cov- 
ers them. These wise old men of the village sagely 
shake their heads, when the facts are stated, and remark, 



380 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

if the nests are comparatively deep, " It will be a dry sum- 
mer/' and vice versa. This is based on the supposition 
that in dry summers the evaporation will exceed the 
rain-fall, and that the fish place their nests in deep water 
to prevent them from being left high and dry. The ab- 
surdity of this is apparent. The nests are occupied but 
for a portion of one month, and what the summer may 
be can in no wise affect them ; but of this the village 
sages never think. The truth is, the same spots are used 
year after year, whether the water be high or low. 

In those of our shallow, sluggish waters which have 
an indefinitely deep, muddy bottom, and harbor a rank 
growth of aquatic vegetation, the handsome, silvery, 
black-banded sunfish is a common species. In such lo- 
calities, where often the weeds grow so luxuriantly that a 
scoop-net can not be drawn, I have found that hundreds 
of these fishes were passing what I think must be a most 
monotonous existence. In some places, locomotion must 
be rather a scramble among the water-weeds than a com- 
fortable swim. Still, these spots have their advantages ; 
for the stems of the plants harbor myriads of minute 
forms of life, and these constitute a never-failing supply of 
food for the fishes, as may be proved by an examination 
of the contents of their stomachs, and by a study of their 
habits in an aquarium, where these same forms of animal 
life were supplied. 

Recently I submitted a series of specimens to my 
friend, Dr. A. C. Stokes, of Trenton, ~N. J., who kindly 
examined the contents of the stomachs of these species 
by the aid of the microscope, with the following results : 

In the stomachs of a dozen or more adult banded sun- 
fish he found Chironomus larvae very numerous ; Cyclops 
quadricomis numerous ; Daphnia sp. numerous ; chiti- 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 381 

nous parts of small insects present, but not abundant ; dia- 
toms, desmids, and fragments of algae, probably, acci- 
dental; and a single rhizopod {Centrojpyxis acideata); In 
very young fish he found Chironomus larvae few, and 
Cyclops quadricornis and Daphnia sp. numerous. 

He adds, " In the stomach of a full-grown fish there 
were from seventy-five to one hundred Chironomus larvae, 
which seem to be the favorite food." This shows at a 
glance that the banded sunfish is essentially a surface 
feeder, and, as we seldom see them moving about in the 
open water or near the surface, they are probably noctur- 
nal in their habits. In an aquarium, however, they seem 
to be as active during the day as at night, although averse 
to exposure to direct sunlight. 

As a fish for the aquarium, the banded sunfishes are 
deservedly popular, and, indeed, they are better known 
as dwellers in such narrow quarters than as a prominent 
species in the fauna of the lower Delaware Valley. I be- 
lieve they are not found above tide-water at all. I have 
frequently shown these fish to old fishermen, who rarely 
acknowledge that they have ever before seen them ; and 
this fact is corroborative of what I had long supposed, 
that these fish are only found in out-of-the-way nooks 
and corners, where game-fish seldom if ever come, and 
that hence their haunts are not often invaded. In fact, 
one would scarcely expect to find any fish in some of the 
weed-grown holes in the meadows, where, in truth, scores 
of banded sunfish are quietly taking their ease. 

Occasionally, however, I have seen this fish wander 
into quite open waters, and here it is that it shows to 
such advantage, when, with the brilliant black dorsal and 
pectoral fins spread, it moves majestically along. 

Although so small, it is a plucky fish, and promptly 
resents any interference. Being a feeble swimmer, it 



382 RAMBLES ABOUT ROME. 

depends for defense upon the sharp spines of its dorsal 
fins, and it seems to know that when these are erected it 
is quite free from molestation. Especially angry does it 
become when a great lubberly catfish chances to wander 
near by and pokes his slimy nose into its haunts. At 
once the plucky sunfish is up in arms, and darts at the 
intruder with great violence. It is a veritable case of the 
king-bird and crow over again, only beneath the water, 
instead of in the air. 

I am still in the dark about the breeding-habits of 
this fish. At times I have thought that it scooped out a 
nest in the sand, as the common " sunny " does ; but I am 
not so sure about it. During the spring of 1881 I found 
females of this species heavy with immature ova, and I 
am now of the opinion that, if any nest is made, it is in 
the mud, among the lily-stems, or at the base of some 
projecting root. Certainly, if anywhere in open water, 
I should have found them before this. 

A puzzling fact, that haunted me whenever I went 
fishing, until very recently (September, 1883), was that I 
never found any very young " bandies," as I usually call 
them. I had often scooped up scores of the mud-loving 
Enneacanthi, found in the same quarters, but with never 
a " bandy " among them. Hoping ever for better things, 
I continued to search for them, and at last success crowned 
my efforts. Early in September last I found scores of 
little ones, some not more than half an inch in length. 
It is safe to say, therefore, that the ova are deposited in 
May or June. Just where, remains to be determined. 

Years ago I stated in the " Naturalist " that the banded 
sunfish scooped out little basins in the sand, and therein 
deposited their ova ; but do they ? Upon the authority 
of what I stated in 1870, it has been repeatedly assert- 
ed that the banded sunfish is a nest-builder ; but I am 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 3S3 

forced to admit that my own observations do not warrant 
me in going further than saying that this is probably 
true. "Wherever one finds the banded sunfish, he is sure 
to find a few individuals of the common " sunny/' and, 
when we consider the fact of the association of these 
species, how readily might it happen that the accidental 
proximity of a banded sunfish to a nest of the common 
species should lead to the impression that the nest was 
the possession of fish seen near it ! I was possibly misled 
in this matter years ago. At all events, I am not posi- 
tive I ever saw a nest of the banded sunfish. 

A very constant companion of the preceding is a 
beautiful sunfish of about the same size, but very differ- 
ently colored. It is known locally as the " spotted sun- 
fish," from the blue and golden dots that are profusely 
sprinkled over the male fish. It has been given a vari- 
ety of scientific names, and that which rightfully belongs 
to it, because first given, has been generally ignored. 

I find in the hand-book that there are two of these 
spotted sunfish allotted to the Delaware, which, I doubt 
not, is all very true ; but it is not always easy to tell which 
is which, if we follow the directions of the manual. One 
of the two has golden spots, and one blue spots — so it is 
said ; but when I put one of them in a glass, I find the 
spots are blue one minute and golden the next, and so 
the change keeps on. Then we are told that one has 
cross-bars of black, and the other has them not ; but this 
is only true in part, as the females of the spotted sun- 
fish want the bars and spots, and the males have them : 
and so we could go on to the end of the chapter. If 
there are two species of these small spotted sunfish, then 
one is that named by Professor Baird obesus, the other 
called guttatus by Dr. Morris years ago. I well remember 
the specimens the doctor caught, and christened as above, 



384 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

and these are the same that, associated with the banded 
sunfish, are so common in all the weedy portions of Wat- 
son's Creek. 

In a recent number of " Harper's Magazine " (Decem- 
ber, 1883) Mr. 0. F. Holder speaks of this sunfish as 
lying "dormant till the coming spring." This does not 
accord with my more recent observations. On the ap- 
proach of cold weather, the fish that I have studied sim- 
ply withdrew to deeper waters, and, wherever there is a 
lively spring in the bed of the creek, there these fish 
congregated in great numbers. Like the larger fishes of 
the same creek, they find open water somewhere, and 
there remain ; and nets set under ice, in the depths of 
winter, show that very nearly all our fishes are active. 
Even the delicate cyprinoids are " moving," for, in the 
stomachs of pike caught in January, I have found re- 
mains of "shiners" of several species. I believe the 
hibernation of sunfish to be an exceptional occurrence, 
rather than a rule. 

Like the preceding, the spotted sunfish is strictly 
carnivorous, but does not feed upon the same forms of 
minute life. This is shown by the results of my friend 
Dr. Stokes's careful examination of the stomach-contents 
of a series of specimens submitted to him. 

The examination of twelve adult specimens of spotted 
sunfish resulted as follows : 

In every case the stomach was empty, but the intes- 
tine contained tracheae, eyes, elytra, heads and chitinous 
parts of small aquatic beetles. These were very numer- 
ous ; also Pisidium sp. occasional ; several small univalve 
mollusks ; a few Chironomus larvae ; occasionally a Daph- 
nia and Cyclops ; and Gammarus sp. numerous. In the 
yery young spotted sunfish examined, there were found 
Pisidium sp. occasionally ; many Daphnia and Chironomus 



BRIEF NOTES OF FISHES. 385 

larvoe ; a few fragments of insects ; many Cyclops ; a few 
very small univalve mollusks, and a single water-mite. 

Here we have evidence that this species of sunfish is 
a bottom feeder, and resorts to the mud rather than else- 
where for its main food-supply; but not always, for, 
during a recent ramble along Watson's Creek, I no- 
ticed quite a commotion in the shallow water near shore, 
and, on approaching the spot, I discovered that three 
of these spotted sunfish had attacked a crayfish which 
had just cast its shell. The battle lasted but for a mo- 
ment after I became a spectator. One by one the 
limbs of the crustacean were torn off, and portions of 
them devoured by the fish in full view of their tortured 
victim. 

"When I see such sights as these — and they are by no 
means uncommon — I can not but think that there is a 
screw loose in nature ; that nothing is perfect, and ani- 
mal life is only reaching out toward perfection. 

In 1873 I happened to catch a fine specimen of the 
" goggle-eyed perch," and found, on inquiry, that it was 
a new fish in the Delaware, according to the systema- 
tists; and "onconimon," according to the experienced 
fishermen of the neighborhood. I showed it to several 
old " shad-men," and they all told me that occasionally 
they had seen them. Since then I have seen perhaps a 
dozen specimens, all from the river, and hence I conclude 
that they have a claim to a place in the fauna of the 
river valley. That they were not here formerly is prob- 
able ; but now, and for many years, there has been a prac- 
ticable route open to them, through our canal system, to 
reach the Delaware from either northwestern or south- 
ern waters. In this way, most likely, they have managed 
to come. All the specimens seen were adult, and this 
leads me to expect that ultimately they will become quite 
17 



386 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

numerous. They are worth angling for, if all fight as did 
the only one I ever caught. 

There is yet another fish that I class, for convenience, 
with the sunfish, simply because I usually find them 
when looking for " sunnies," though in fact it belongs to 
a very different family. It is the " pirate," or spineless 
perch, which, by the way, I never expect to find, and 
which I certainly never have found, when on a regular 
hunt for them. That they are always in the deeper 
ditches I am certain, but they can easily dodge a scoop- 
net, and all day long they hide in such inaccessible nooks 
that they are safe. It was only by accident that I ever 
have bagged them, and so, with a light heart, I make a 
place for every such one in my aquarium, and sit down 
to watch how the ill-tempered fellow behaves in confine- 
ment. They are well named " pirates," as they are among 
minnows what shrikes are among sparrows, and are more 
pitiless even than the pike. 

Recently I find the correctness of this view questioned 
by Professor Forbes, of Illinois, who has made many 
exhaustive studies of the food of fishes. He says my 
specimens " were doubtless forced to feed so largely upon 
fishes for want of food more natural to them, since, in 
their native haunts, fishes make but a small percentage 
of their ordinary food." As a matter of fact, while my 
studies of the habits of this fish were largely confined 
to specimens in aquaria, these were supplied with other 
food, and my conclusions were verified by subsequent 
examinations of the stomach-contents of many speci- 
mens. I have frequently found them with a partially 
digested fish projecting from their jaws; and fish-re- 
mains proved to be fully seventy-five per cent of the con- 
tents of the stomachs of a series of seven adult specimens 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 387 

taken last September (1883), and carefully examined to 
determine the character of the food. 

Professor Forbes further states that the " intestine of 
this species is short and simple," and overlooks the signifi- 
cant fact that it has a row of a dozen or more pyloric caeca, 
-which doubtless compensate for the want of length of the 
digestive tract proper. 

Without questioning the correctness of my friend's 
investigations on this point, I am quite sure that the can- 
nibalistic appetite of the New Jersey pirate perches has 
not been overstated. 

As a result of many long studies of them, in aquaria, 
I find that they are strictly nocturnal in their habits. 
Many fish, as eels and catfish, are essentially so, but in 
this case it is absolutely so. In confinement I never 
knew them to move about in search of food, although 
they were prompt to accept it if placed directly before 
and very near them. One large specimen, in particular, 
which I kept for eleven months, remained during the day 
under a little arch of stones, and so seldom varied its posi- 
tion that it became as permanent a fixture in my mind 
as the arch itself. I would scarcely have felt more sur- 
prise to see the arch change its place than to have seen 
any voluntary movement on the part of the pirate during 
the day ; but, on the approach of evening, the fish began 
to grow restless and moved slowly to and fro, but not 
beyond the cover of the arch. Once let it be dark, and 
the restlessness gave way to a disposition to roam about, 
and this it did in an erratic, nervous manner. The result 
of its short journeyings, however, was invariably the capt- 
ure of a good-sized minnow, and with this it promptly 
returned to the arch and resumed its favorite position. 
Usually it captured a minnow far too large to be swal- 
lowed whole, and so, with the tail projecting from its 



388 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

jaws, the pirate would go to the arch, and remain perhaps 
all the next day with its month distended by the project- 
ing tail of the minnow it had swallowed. 

As in the case of the banded sunfish, I am not posi- 
tive as to the breeding-habits of this fish. In the " Ten- 
foot Ditch," in my neighbor's mucky meadow, I found 
early in June, 1860, very young specimens, which were 
thought to be but three or four weeks old at most. The 
water here was clear, with a swift current, and the 
bottom of the stream was completely covered with pond- 
weeds of several species. Somewhere near, the eggs 
must have been laid ; but where, or how many, is a mat- 
ter of conjecture. There were not many of these young 
fish. 

From circumstances connected with the finding of 
very young " pirates " in a nameless brook flowing into 
Cooper's Creek, Camden County, N. J., and later of find- 
ing very many associated young fish in the Shabbaconk 
Creek, I was led to believe that this fish made a nest 
like that of the common sunfish, and often appropri- 
ated the nests made by the " sunny." So sure was I 
of this, that I made an unqualified assertion to that effect 
in the " Geology of New Jersey," Appendix E, p. 808, and 
since then in " The Naturalist " ; but of late years I have 
not been able to verify this. I can, however, speak very 
positively of the fact that the parent fish remain with 
the young for a considerable time, apparently to guard 
them ; or was it to devour one occasionally, other food 
being scarce ? 

In speaking of the nests of the common sunfish, Mr. 
C. F. Holder, in the article I have already quoted, refers 
to the nesting habits of the " pirate " as follows : 

" They have, however, one enemy that seems to defy 
them, the pirate perch (Aphrodederus Sayanas\ which, 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 389 

like the cuckoo, that is either incapable or too lazy to 
build a nest of its own, often deposits its eggs in that of 
its neighbor. 

u The perches wait until the sunfish complete their 
homes, when they evict them by force of blows, often 
only after a sanguinary struggle. This accomplished, the 
victors, male and female, install themselves, and the eggs 
are deposited frequently among those of the former occu- 
pants, who perhaps are avenged, as their captors guard 
their nest jealously, protecting the young sunfish as they 
come out, and staying by them until they are about half 
an inch in length, when they are left to look out for 
themselves." 

Unfortunately, this statement is based upon my own 
perhaps too hasty conclusions, and may not be wholly 
correct. 

Whenever I chance to walk along the tide-water 
ditches of the lower meadows, my attention is sure to 
be called to the greenish-gray minnows that dart by in 
scores, and in fact are only noticeable from above when 
seen in considerable numbers closely associated. They 
are of no particular tint as seen in the water, agreeing in 
this respect with the sandy, muddy bottom of the ditch 
they are in. To test this, I have often scattered a little 
school of them, and while none were concealed it was 
only with great difficulty that I could detect individuals ; 
yet probably there were three or four on every square 
foot of ground examined. This indefinite coloring proves 
an excellent protection, or else the herons must have 
sharp eyes, for these birds catch as many fish as frogs, I 
think. These minnows are not the little shiners that are 
also called by this comprehensive term, but are the blunt- 
headed, square-jawed, barred little fish that are more com- 
mon in the river than anywhere else, but are by no means 



390 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

confined to it. They are known scientifically as the 
Cyprinodonts, or toothed minnows. 

I have gathered f our well-marked species, but detect- 
ed no differences in their habits. They are all social, 
carnivorous, restless, diurnal, running-water fishes, and 
seem to have no other duty in the plan of creation than 
to feed on minute mollusca and insect larvae, and to hold 
themselves in readiness to be eaten by larger fishes, and 
by the king-fishers, the herons, bitterns, and other birds. 

One of the four species, the common barred minnow, 
is of a more restless disposition than the others, and wan- 
ders as far from tide-water as it is possible to go. I 
know of no more earnest explorer among our many fishes. 
Wherever there is an inch of moderately clear water, 
there the barred minnow will be found. Only perpen- 
dicular falls of a foot or more in height, or constantly 
muddied waters, obstruct their course. Ordinary rapids, 
as where the water rushes madly over or about large 
rocks, do not prevent their onward progress; and often, 
early in the spring, I have seen them leap several inches 
up a fall that was nearly or quite perpendicular. 

In general appearance quite like the carnivorous or 
toothed minnows just mentioned, is an abundant species 
that frequents only the quiet muddy ditches, mostly be- 
yond the reach of the tides. This is the mud-minnow. 
It is a small fish, seldom being found of a greater length 
than three inches ; but has been known to reach nearly 
twice that size. Such large specimens, however, are ex- 
ceedingly rare. 

In calling this fish the mud-minnow, it must not be 
supposed for a moment that they are sluggish, slow- 
moving creatures. On the contrary, they are as active as 
other minnows, and, being possessed of greater strength, 
can pass through soft mud with as much ease as other 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 391 

fishes do through the clear waters. Zadoc Thompson, in 
his " History of Vermont," speaks of them as very tena- 
cious of life, and says they " can live longer than most 
fishes without water. During droughts, as the waters sub- 
side and recede from the coves, they have the power by 
a springing motion of transporting themselves from one 
little puddle to another. They also have the power of 
partially burying themselves and living in the mud and 
among the moist grass-roots, after the other small fishes 
associated with them are all dead from the want of water. 
In these situations vast numbers of them are devoured 
by birds, musk-rats, and foxes." This coincides with my 
own observations, except that, unfortunately, we have no 
foxes to devour the superabundant minnows. 

One feature of peculiar interest in this fish is the 
great variation of color. "While nearly all our dark-hued 
fishes differ in the depth of coloring, this variation is 
either permanent or it is in a measure dependent upon 
the season, as when colors are heightened by excessive 
vitality during the breeding-season ; but in this case it is 
wholly different. Specimens kept in an aquarium, where 
the surroundings closely imitated their natural haunts, 
never exhibited uniform coloring. In many females the 
body below the lateral line was often glossy black, re- 
lieved by minute silvery dots ; but frequently this color 
faded to the general hue of the back, which is a dull, green- 
ish brown, in the larger specimens relieved by darker 
vertical bands. The most marked variation was in some 
of the smaller specimens, which were almost silvery in 
color below the lateral line, and pale, greenish gray above. 
The dark vertical band at the base of the tail is always 
present. No published description of the color will ap- 
ply to one in a hundred living specimens. 

During the winter of 1873-'74: I had unusually fa- 



392 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

vorable opportunities of studying this minnow at this 
time of year. In December, while the weather was cool 
rather than cold, with but little ice, I found that hun- 
dreds of these fish were being thrown out with the mud 
then being taken from the ditches in the meadows. 
Learning this, I carefully examined the mud thrown 
out, to determine as far as possible the condition of these 
fishes. They were, when taken from the mud, motion- 
less, stiff, and apparently frozen, though they were not 
brittle, and an attempt to bend them resulted in prompt 
resistance, or at least in voluntary muscular movements. 
Specimens thus roughly handled were, in most instances, 
injured by being thus bent, even when this curvation was 
not in excess of what they can and readily do assume in 
their normal condition. 

On placing specimens in clear water of the tempera- 
ture of 60° Fahr., they did not fully revive until after 
lying on their sides at the bottom of the vessel for from 
twenty-five to forty minutes, and then they seemed to 
be permanently injured by the sudden change ; but when 
placed, with the mud still adhering to them, in water at 
40° Fahr., and this was gradually warmed by the heat of 
the room in which the vessel stood, the minnows would 
become wholly themselves again in from ten to fifteen 
minutes, and swim about in full vigor as the mud slowly 
loosened from them and settled to the bottom of the 
vessel. 

The mud in which these minnows were hibernating, 
when taken from the bottom of the ditch, was about of 
the consistence of cheese, though, of course, it was less 
firm when the fish entered it, weeks before. As far as 
I was able to determine, the fish had burrowed tail-fore- 
most to a depth of from four to nine inches. In every 
instance I am sure the tail was deeper in the mud than 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 393 

the head, the position varying from nearly horizontal to 
almost or quite perpendicular. 

Pursuing the investigation somewhat further, I found 
that when these minnows had gone into winter-quarters 
in water from three to five feet deep, the hibernating 
slumber was not as profound ; and when they were placed 
in clear water, at a temperature of 40° Fahr., they almost 
immediately swam about, slowly at first, but with steadily 
increasing activity, and in from three to five minutes 
they were in full possession of all their locomotive pow- 
ers, and assumed the statue-like positions common to 
them in summer, when for many minutes together they 
will remain immovable until an opportunity is offered to 
capture an insect or some minute crustacean. It should 
be here mentioned that the water in the ditches from 
which I gathered my first specimens varied from nine to 
fifteen inches in depth, and was coated with ice one inch 
thick. 

During February, the weather being mild and spring- 
like — frogs singing at midday — I watched for the ap- 
pearance of these fish, and saw them first on Sunday, the 
15th. A week later, Monday, the 23d, there were but 
few specimens in the muddy ditches, but a vast number 
of females, heavy with masses of ova, were found in the 
swift, clear waters of the hill-side brooks. 

On the 25th there was a violent snow-storm, with 
cold northeast winds, but this did not deter the onward 
movement of the minnows. Of the specimens taken 
from the rivulets at this time, none were males, and it 
seems probable, although I could not ascertain the truth, 
that the male fish follow the females, and, seeking out 
the deposited ova, fertilize them; or the females wait 
until the arrival of the males before depositing their 
eggs. While as yet this is largely conjecture on my part, 



394 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

I have not in subsequent observations seen anything to 
contradict it. Certainly the females precede the male 
fish to the spawning-grounds. It is seen, therefore, that 
while these fish at the commencement of winter seek 
shelter from the cold by burrowing deeply in the mud, 
at the approach of spring they revive synchronously 
with the maturing of the ova of the female and the milt 
of the male, and, having thus recovered their wonted ac- 
tivity (during February and March), no severity of the 
weather appears to deter them from seeking out excep- 
tionally cold waters for their spawning-grounds. This 
was shown by the snow-storm referred to, after which the 
female minnows were still found passing up the brooks, 
forcing their way up miniature cascades with all the agil- 
ity of salmon, leaping from eddy to eddy, seeking out the 
most distant points from their muddy summer haunts ; 
and here, where but little water flowed, and with the 
long grass and twigs projecting from it thickly coated 
with crystal ice and glistening frost, I found the plainly 
colored nxud-minnows lying half hidden among the peb- 
bles and sandy ridges of the brook's bed. 

Subsequent studies of this fish have resulted in not- 
ing certain peculiarities in its movements which may 
have some bearing upon the subject of evolution. On 
observing the movements of some remarkably large spec- 
imens in an aquarium, I was forcibly struck with the 
peculiar use they made of their pectoral fins. These 
fins in most fish are kept parallel, or nearly so, with the 
body, and they are usually thin, transparent, and with 
very flexible rays. These conditions, which vary in the 
thousands of species of fishes, do not obtain in the in- 
stance of the mud-minnows. The membrane is dense, 
the rays numerous and strong, and the fin is often held 
at a right angle with the body when the fish is in a hori- 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 395 

zontal position, and at more or less of an angle in what- 
ever position may be assumed. The ventral fins, like- 
wise stiff and strongly rayed, are not much used when 
the fish is swimming, but as soon as the fish comes to a 
rest they are spread out, and, with the pectoral fins now 
motionless and stiff, they form four " legs " that support 
the body, just as is the case with a salamander. In- 
deed, the likeness goes further, and the body is frequent- 
ly curved when at rest, and remains so, the head being 
turned to the right or left, and the tail in the opposite di- 
rection. No one can fail to see the salamandrine ap- 
pearance of this fish when it assumes such a position.^ 

Now, if we follow up the habits of this fish, are there 
any other un-fish-like habits to be seen ? Knowing its 
predilection for thick and muddy waters, its hibernating, 
and ability to withstand prolonged exposure to the atmos- 
phere, as already described, indications of habits suggest- 
ive of a semi-aquatic life may reasonably be looked for. 
The one peculiarity, other than those mentioned, that I 
have noticed, is this : these fish, as I have mentioned, may 
often be seen resting on the tips of the pectoral and ven- 
tral fins. On disturbing them, occasionally, instead of 
swimming, especially if the water is very shallow, they 
make a forward movement, by giving these fins a leg-like 

motion, indicated by leaving faint traces, thus: //// 

upon the sand. I first noticed this in observing speci- 
mens kept in a large aquarium, and since then have seen 
these same fin-marks made by the minnows in the mud 
in the bottoms of the meadow-ditches. It is often a vol- 
untary movement on their part, I am now convinced, 
and not made only when disturbed. In fact, if suddenly 
disturbed, they generally dart off by swimming only, and 
bury themselves, tail-foremost, in the mud. 



396 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Taking now into consideration this habit, together 
with that of giving the body a salamandrine position, 
often maintained for several minutes, as well as that of 
burrowing in the mud, and also its capacity to withstand 
exposure to the atmosphere for a long time, is not the 
suggestion reasonable that a radical change may ulti- 
mately take place, and a semi-aquatic animal, allied at 
least in habits to the salamanders, be the result? 

The mud -minnow is carnivorous. When kept in 
aquaria they will devour any reasonable number of flies 
offered them, and undertake, without hesitation, to swal- 
low earth-worms, as large as themselves. Once they take 
hold of a worm, they never let go, but at least secure that 
portion of the animal between their jaws. Not only 
do they allow themselves to be fed, by taking food di- 
rectly from one's hand, but they will leap above the 
water to seize any tempting morsel held above them. 
Learning this from observations of many specimens kept 
in aquaria, I was led to suppose that the same occurred 
habitually in their native haunts, and this is true. Unlike 
any other of our fishes, the mud-minnow will leap twice 
and thrice its length above the surface of the water to 
seize a fly or beetle that happens to rest upon some over- 
hanging blade of grass or twig. So often, of recent 
years, have I seen this, while floating quietly along on 
the watch, that I am surprised that Professor Forbes, in 
speaking of the food of these fishes, should state that in- 
sects amount to but " fourteen per cent, chiefly undeter- 
mined larvae," and further that " no terrestrial forms were 
recognized." While it is scarcely probable that a fish with 
so good an appetite could largely depend upon terrestrial 
insects for its food-supply, yet it is evident, both from 
aquaria studies and out-door observations, that these do 
constitute a considerable percentage of its food. With 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 397 

this species, as with many others which by their denti- 
tion show that they are carnivorous, it is probable that 
much of the vegetable matter found in their stomachs 
has not been taken voluntarily, but unavoidably; the 
fish swallowing portions of a plant often for the sake of 
the animal life that was clinging to it. 

In the manual to which I so frequently have occasion 
to refer, I find no direct reference to a fish that is as 
much a fresh-water species as our shad or herring. Why 
it has been overlooked I can not understand, as I have 
seldom wandered about the river during the summer 
months without seeing numbers of this " exclusively ma- 
rine " species. I refer to the silver gar or " bill-fish." 
Tears ago I called attention to the great numbers of these 
fishes that are often caught in the canal, when the water 
is drawn off, in December, " at the close of navigation." 
Particularly during the month of August are these fishes 
plentiful in the river, and when sporting in company 
about a floating leaf or twig, darting over it and each 
other with a great variety of graceful movements, they 
present a most interesting sight. 

They do not appear to leave the salt water at any 
particular time of the year, but "whenever the notion 
takes them " they wander up the river and thence into 
the tributary creeks. Once here, they seem in no hurry 
to return, as my note-books show them to have been seen 
in Crosswicks Creek in every month of the year. 

As a fresh-water fish, the silver gar reminds me 
strongly of the pike. It preys upon the small minnows 
in the same manner ; and at times it will remain motion- 
less near the surface of the water, just beneath the spread- 
ing leaves of the splatter-docks. Unlike the pike, how- 
ever, it is 6omewhat sociable and full of play. Often a 



398 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

half-dozen of them will chase each other with great ani- 
mation, turning round and round in miniature circles. 
A curious feature of these gambols is the excessive curva- 
ture given to the body at such times. The fish will often 
describe a circle, with its body almost in a similar posi- 
tion. Then, quickly unbending, the circle will be again 
described, but reversed, the body being bent in the op- 
posite direction. 

It is not only the adult fish that come into the fresh 
waters of the river and the tributary creeks. I have 
often seen them, less than six inches in length, far up 
Crosswicks Creek, where the water was rapid, shallow, 
and very cold. 

On questioning the more experienced fishermen, I 
find that a few of these silver gars are caught every year 
during the shad-season, but that only in August are they 
ever very abundant. Furthermore, this fact has been so 
frequently noted, that a local name, " harvest-pike," is in 
use in this neighborhood, based upon it. 

De Kay does not appear to have known that this fish 
enters our rivers. At least, he refers to it only as a 
"coast" species. Nevertheless, the fish is frequently 
found in the Hudson, as far from the coast as Albany. 
De Kay further says, " It is highly prized by epicures." 
In this neighborhood, on the contrary, it is supposed to 
be poisonous. That it is not, I know to be true ; but how 
far it is desirable as a food-fish I do not know from ex- 
perience. They are too pretty to catch, and please me so 
much, as I watch them " at home," that I have no desire 
to drag them to my domicile to see how they taste. 

Skipping the shad, for the world knows enough of it 
already, there are a few words to be said of another of 
the herring tribe that has become land-locked in this 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 399 

neighborhood. This fact has made them interesting ; and 
it is well that they should find favor in some way. As 
an article of food they are absolutely valueless, or worse, 
for the bones are of such size, strength, and confused ar- 
rangement, that it is a foolhardy act to try to eat one of 
these fishes. I speak from experience. 

Not very far from the house is a quiet, maple-shaded 
pond, where, summer long, the deep-voiced bull-frog 
sounds his doleful ditty, and the sprightlier swamp-frogs 
on the grassy shores, and bell-tongued Hylas on the 
drooping branches of the overhanging trees, wake the 
dull echoes with a livelier song. Here, out of the world, 
as it were, in green and sluggish waters that tempt no 
seeker for romantic scenes, there roams in listless mood 
this great, lazy, leaden-colored fish that denies, in its 
habits, any kinship to the great herring family to w r hich 
it belongs. 

In this pond, for nearly thirty years, these landlocked 
herring have lived and moved and had their being, sub- 
sisting on the myriads of small shells that they crush to 
atoms in their dense, muscular stomachs, the possession of 
which has given them their common name of the gizzard- 
shad. 

This herring is common along our coast, and, entering 
the river early in the spring, wanders as far inland as 
do any of its tribe ; but, unlike the others, it often gets 
into ponds which have an outlet to the river when the 
spring freshets occur, but which are shut off from the 
main stream when the waters sink to their ordinary 
level. In this way the gizzard-shad become landlocked, 
and under these circumstances they thrive admirably. 
Whether, in the pond to which I have referred, they come 
and go with every freshet, I can not tell, though I doubt 
it. Some, at least, that are in the pond have been there 



400 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

for several years ; and many, for aught I know to the 
contrary, have been born and bred there. 

These landlocked specimens are of interest as show- 
ing how readily an altered environment causes a decided 
alteration in color, and probably also in their anatomical 
structure. Comparison of these fish taken from the 
"maple-pond," many of which are descendants of the 
original fish that were landlocked in 1857, with those 
from the river, show them to be wholly different in color, 
and, more strangely still, their stomachs are certainly less 
muscular. I have examined a great many from this 
pond, supposed to have been hatched there, and at the 
time were from two to three years old, and there was 
certainly a smaller " gizzard " than in specimens of the 
same size taken from the river, and which had come but 
very recently from the sea. It is at least natural to specu- 
late upon the probability of this herring in time losing 
the muscular stomach, as a consequence of not requiring 
such an organ for the digestion of the food that land- 
locked localities offer. 

Other fish feed upon the same mollusks and have no 
such convenient gizzards, as, for instance, the perch and 
chub ; but, then, the one has teeth in its jaws, and the 
other stout pharyngeal teeth that are admirably adapted 
to crushing. Do these take the place of the gizzard in 
the landlocked herring ? If so, the need of it is apparent, 
and it will not wholly disappear, unless there is an entire 
change in the food. Still, there is a difference, in this 
respect, between these fish as found on the coast, and 
those that for several generations have been confined to 
small bodies of fresh water. 

This landlocked herring is not always a sluggish fish, 
as I have seen it, in April, as full of life as is the most 
restless minnow. It seemed as though they had caught 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 401 

the full meaning of the warblers' merry notes, and were 
inspired by the sight of the crimson flashes of light that 
glance upon the water as the mad-cap oriole in hisnup- 
tiaV dress rushes hither and yon among the overarching 
trees. Indeed, at this time, the dull, leaden tints of this 
fish become a glistening blue, and bands of sparkling sil- 
ver deck its ashy sides. No water seems too cold or 
too shallow for them. They dart like pickerel up the 
tiny spring-brooks that feed the pond, and skip and dance 
about the deeper water as though too joyful to contain 
themselves. From the muddy depths they rise to the 
surface, and, throwing themselves upon their sides, leap 
above the water, as though challenging the birds to match 
their brilliant colors. For a few days, their excess of 
action is kept up, and then it ends, as all such manoeu- 
vres ever do, in a profound reaction, when their hum- 
drum existence returns ; and so quietly do they keep 
themselves throughout the summer, that their existence 
would not be suspected by the casual observer. 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. (CONCLUDED.) 

Considered as a group, there are no fishes so attract- 
ive to me as the " shiners." I do not like to separate 
them, and call one a chub, another a dace, and a third a 
minnow. This savors too much of later anatomical stud- 
ies. My first attempt at field-notes reads thus : " Walked 
along the creek and saw lots of shiners " ; and my latest 
rambles by the same stream can be no more comprehen- 
sively described. The " lots of shiners " still are there, 
and I only wish I dared sit under the old chestnut-trees, 
as I could once, and catch these same shiners with a pin- 
hook. Now, if I go a-fishing at all, it must be with 
" boughten " tackle and a basket, and only bass or pike 
must be angled for. This is called sport, but the fun of 
pin-hook and tow-string days is wanting. Now I can 
only gaze wistfully at these same shiners, and wish I was 
a boy. 

This class of fishes, known scientifically as cyprinoids, 
are readily recognized as the roach, dace, chub, and min- 
now of our streams. There is a strong family likeness 
running through the class, and a general silvery coloring 
which has given rise to the comprehensive term " shin- 
ers." 

I find that there are fourteen species in the creeks and 
river at this place. At least, following the text-books, 
this is true ; but I have found others which are hard to 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 403 

determine, according to the descriptions given in the 
books ; but as these lists are made up from a distorted, 
faded mass of alcoholic specimens, the probabilities are, 
that those who profess to know the most about these fish, 
still fall short of the whole truth. 

Foremost among these cyprinoids, the shiner par 
excellence is the roach. It seldom happens that I look 
into any ditch, even, and fail to see a dozen or more of 
them lazily drifting about. They are eminently social, 
and are often found in enormous schools; but, unlike 
herds of cattle, droves of horses, or flocks of geese, the 
roach have no leaders. The danger that affrights one, 
influences all alike, and as one body away they dart, the 
moment a threatening shadow clouds the surface of the 
stream. To watch them, being yourself in full view, is a 
profitless undertaking. To follow them, yourself unseen, 
is full of amusement and instruction. At such times it 
may be possible to get an inner view, and so to determine 
in a vague way how much intelligence flits through their 
simple brains, although I must confess that the undertak- 
ing often is almost hopeless so far as the roach is con- 
cerned. Although watched for hours, they seemed as 
little like living creatures as the floating twigs that drift- 
ed with them. This was due, however, to two important 
facts : they were neither hungry, nor were they oppressed 
by enemies. Let either of these conditions be changed, 
and their manner changes at once. When food is dis- 
covered, it seems as if each individual roach of the school 
saw the coveted morsel at the same time, and a chase 
commences that is, at least, remarkable for the machine- 
like uniformity in time and motion with which they all 
rush forward to seize it. I have tested this frequently 
in this way : Going a short distance above the foremost 
of the school of roach, which always heads up-stream, 



404 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

and darts down when frightened, I would throw a grass- 
hopper into the water. In an instant, the nearest roach 
would dart toward it, and usually seize it ; but at the same 
time the hindmost roach would rush forward with equal 
promptness, although, of course, it could not have seen 
the grasshopper, and knew not why it darted forward, 
except for the reason that it felt the necessity of doing 
precisely as its neighbors. Then I would change my tac- 
tics, and throw a grasshopper into the middle of the school. 
In such a case, the nearest ahead of the insect would 
turn about, though they were seldom in time to catch it, 
and the fishes farthest ahead would likewise all turn 
about, apparently for no other reason than because those 
behind them did so. They could not have known the 
primary cause of the change of position of certain of their 
fellows, nor could there have been any hope of seizing 
the food, as that always fell to the fish nearest to whose 
mouth it dropped. Then, in a third manner, I would 
test the school by throwing a grasshopper some distance 
behind the last of the fishes. The struggles of the insect 
upon the surface would attract the hindmost roach in a 
moment, and the fish would reverse its position. Quite 
as promptly, the foremost fish would turn about in like 
manner. It was evident, therefrom, that these fish are so 
intimately associated as to act promptly as one body. 
"What purpose does it serve ? So far as a food-supply is 
concerned, it is disadvantageous, as the roach are carnivo- 
rous, and no such abundance of insect or other animal 
life is met with as to supply each member of a school 
of two or three hundred individuals. This social instinct 
would seem to have arisen as a means of protection. If 
so, I am " at sea " as to what enemies they elude by as- 
sociation. At present, the perch and pike prey upon 
them, and the former follows the schools until surfeited 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 405 

with both food and slaughter ; the latter lies in wait and 
seizes the first to come within easy reach. In these cases, 
the social instinct works them no good. Can it be- that 
each individual, knowing the danger to which it is ex- 
posed, seeks the company of others, feeling that thereby 
its own safety is increased? This is crediting them with 
intelligence beyond warrantable limits, perhaps, and as- 
suming that they live their lives in a state of perpetual 
fear. Imperfect as is creation, it is hard to believe that 
any creatures are so unfortunately situated as this implies. 
Nevertheless, their actions, at times, are only explicable 
upon such an assumption. 

The roach is an example of how far coloration may 
vary among fishes of the same species, and therefore how 
small reliance can be placed upon it in determining a 
" species." Years ago, De Kay described as not only dis- 
tinct species, but as belonging to different genera, indi- 
viduals of this cyprinoid received from different locali- 
ties, and presenting marked variation of color and some 
minor differences of form. In rambling about this neigh- 
borhood I have found a great many roach in the most 
widely differing localities. I have found them in clear, 
cold, rapid waters, that would charm a trout, and in green- 
coated pools of such warm and thick waters that even 
frogs declined to enter them. In the former case, the 
fish were bright, silvery, and sleek, and darted to and fro, 
when disturbed, with all the animation of a trout ; in 
the latter, they were of a dull, leaden hue, without a 
trace of metallic luster, and more sluggish and sleepy 
than tadpoles. Even the general increased vivacity of 
fishes in spring-time does not inspire these mud-haunting 
roach. They are thoroughly dull, listless, and lazy, and 
bear evidence of the direct influence of a depressing en- 
vironment upon them. The only seemingly contradictory 






406 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

condition is the fact that clear, pleasant waters are with- 
in their reach, yet they do not see fit to leave their pres- 
ent unattractive quarters. In certain of the large, muddy 
pools frequented by roach, I have found some of the 
largest specimens of this fish that I have ever seen. It 
is seldom that in Watson's Creek we find one more than 
seven inches long, but, in a deep pool on a neighbor's 
meadow, roach measuring nine inches in length have 
been taken. These are very nearly the same in shape 
and color as those described by De Kay as the " varie- 
gated bream." Of this fish, that author remarks : " The 
name of wind-fish is derived from one of its habits. 
Whenever a light flaw of wind ruffles the water, thou- 
sands of these fish may be seen darting to the surface and 
as suddenly disappearing." This I have often noticed 
when, on approaching a pond suddenly, I have surprised 
a school of roach. The habit is not caused by wind ruf- 
fling the surface of the water, but is due to the fact that 
the fish were startled, and, indeed, it is common among 
all the cyprinoids. These fish generally keep just below 
the surface of the w T ater, and so near it that any sudden 
movement is sure to ruffle it considerably. Without any 
apparent cause, hundreds of other shiners will leap an inch 
or more above the surface, and there is reason to believe 
that the cause of this is the sudden appearance of preda- 
tory fishes among them, just as the moss-bunkers, at sea, 
leap above the water by thousands when chased by the 
blue-fish. 

Another well-marked variety of the roach, found in 
a small creek some distance from my home, are small, 
slender, and of a uniform steel-blue color. Even the fins 
differ from those of the typical roach in size, and, on com- 
parison, other constant anatomical differences are to be 
seen. Some years ago I called attention to this fish as a 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 407 

variety that closely approached the boundary of a " spe- 
cies." Since then I have found these blue roach in Cross- 
wicks Creek, and always in swiftly running, clear, - cold 
water. It would seem, therefore, that the fish varies in a 
marked degree in accordance with its environment ; and 
being a hardy species, capable of living almost anywhere, 
that variation is necessarily considerable. Considered 
from the evolutionary stand-point — the only rational one 
— it is an instance of the instability of species, so called, 
and shows how little change is necessary to bring about 
even permanent " specific " changes in the anatomy of a 
fish. Once let there occur a decided change of habits, 
and a change of structure will ultimately follow. 

The next in importance among the cyprinoids, and 
one exceeding the roach in size, is the beautiful fall-fish, 
or rosy chub. 

How great a change in habits may exist among the 
fishes of a family can be seen when comparing the habi- 
tat of this chub with that of a muddy-pool roach. ~No 
water is too clear, too cold, too rapid for the chub. They 
delight in stemming the swiftest currents of the river, 
and die at once if confined in quiet, sun-warmed waters. 
To find them in all their glory, I have but to go to the 
swift ripples about the rocks in the river. Here they 
congregate in large numbers in April and May, but wan- 
der about singly later in the season. Except during the 
spring months, they are not a social species, as is the 
roach. Chub are not confined to the river, however, for 
I find many of them wandering up Crosswicks Creek to 
the limit of tide-water. Here they delight in deep holes, 
and often I have caught specimens of the largest size by 
carefully sinking a grasshopper into some known deep 
hole in this creek. 



408 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Like all the cyprinoids, they are seen at their best 
during the breeding-season, and then, indeed, their color- 
ing is gorgeous — blue, purple, crimson, gold, and silver — 
every tint brilliant, and all so blended as to produce a 
most pleasing effect. The fish either realize their attract- 
ive appearance at such times, or their unusual animation 
is a happy coincidence. At all events, every movement is 
in accord with their holiday attire, and no more interest- 
ing sight beneath the water is to be met with than the 
courtship of the rosy chubs. 

Their courtship varies in nothing from that of the 
diurnal fishes generally. The males simply display their 
charms to the best advantage before the passive females, 
resist the encroachments of every rival, and in a few days 
have either chosen a mate, or been chosen — it is difficult 
to say which. It is probable that the females express 
their assent to the claims of such aspiring males as meet 
with their favor, and then off they go. Those who have 
carefully watched our fishes in spring see little difference 
between their methods of courtship and that of our birds. 

In one respect, however, the chub differs materially 
from the birds and even many fish : it does not concern 
itself with the care of its offspring. Once the eggs are 
laid upon their bed of sand, all care as to their future 
vanishes. So, too, does the mutual regard of the newly 
mated pair. Leaving the spawning-ground, they are at 
once utterly indifferent to each other. 

I find it to be a common impression among those fish- 
ermen who have given the subject any attention, that our 
" shiners," as a class, do not pair, but go in mixed schools 
to available spawning-grounds, where the ova are depos- 
ited and fertilized in the most careless manner, and that 
many of them are devoured by these same fish ; that many 
are destroyed by floating to unsuitable localities ; and that 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 409 

but a small proportion is really fertilized and sinks into 
the sand, and is left undisturbed while the growth of the 
embryo progresses. 

"While I am satisfied that this is true of many of our 
cyprinoids, if not the most of them, I am equally positive 
that it is not true of the rosy chub. These, certainly, are 
mated until the ova are deposited and fertilized, as I have 
mentioned. 

There is yet another chub that I find in the same 
neighborhood, but the two are not associated in small 
streams. It has so happened that wherever I find the 
one, I never find the other. Why they will not associate 
I do not know ; but when I have taken one each of these 
two species, and placed them in an aquarium, I have 
never seen any evidence of mutual dislike on their parts. 

It has seemed to me that these comparatively dull- 
colored chub are less particular as to the localities they 
frequent, and can thrive fairly well in quiet and warm 
waters. I have never found them in still-water ponds, 
but so frequently in streams with but little current that 
the change to a pond would not be a violent one. Like 
the rosy chub, this plainer species, which is readily rec- 
ognized by its smaller scales and black spot on the dorsal 
fin, grows to a large size, and is therefore of some value 
as food. Early in the year, particularly, the flesh is 
firm and well flavored, and I have often thought that it 
might be cultivated to advantage. Both species are car- 
nivorous, but, as their food-supply is largely composed of 
insects and minute mollusca, the difficulty of feeding 
them, when placed in artificial ponds, would not be great. 

There is but one brook within the limits of my ram- 
bles wherein occur the beautiful red-fins, and even here 

18 



410 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

they are few and far between. In other brooks, four or 
five miles away, however, I find them in great abundance, 
and I often linger long by the babbling waters of the 
Shabbaconk, for no other reason than to watch the gam- 
bols of these cyprinoids, gorgeous in crimson and gold. 
Unlike most of this family of fishes, the male red-fins 
only present a brilliant coloring, and this they retain 
throughout the year. The difference during the breeding- 
season, from other times of the year, is in the greater 
prominence of the little tubercles that thickly dot their 
heads and upper jaw. These prickles are, in themselves, 
of no beauty, and rather mar the general appearance of 
the fish. Although prominent during the breeding-sea- 
son, it is very questionable if their purpose is solely to 
render their possessors more attractive in the eyes of the 
females, as is evidently the case with bright coloring. 
When we know all about these prickles, their purpose 
will, in all probability, be found to have nothing to do 
with sexual attractiveness. 

Red-fins are social the year through, and are seldom 
seen except in schools. Unlike the commoner roach, 
these fish separate in May, and for a while females will 
be found in certain portions of a brook and males in an- 
other. My attention was first called to this many years 
ago, when I noticed, in shallow, rippling waters, hundreds 
of male red-fins closely associated. The spot was fairly 
purpled with their ruddy sides and fins gleaming in the 
water. They filled a little basin in the brook, and showed 
no disposition to leave. Being disturbed, they passed but 
a short distance down the stream and resumed their close- 
ly associated positions. There were probably a hundred 
or more, and so close together did they keep that a space 
not over two feet in diameter contained them all. Not 
a female fish was among them. But they had been there, 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 411 

and deposited their ova, and the congregated male fish 
were then upon the spawning-ground fertilizing these 
deposits. Soon after, the sexes reassemble and lead a 
restless but scarcely eventful life. The young are left 
to shift for themselves, and to a certain extent are de- 
voured by their parents. Professor Forbes * found but 
one specimen in twenty-one that had eaten fishes, but can- 
nibalistic propensities are not so uncommon here among 
these fishes. Indeed, I find that all our shiners feed 
more or less upon very young fishes of the same or allied 
species. In speaking of the shiners, as a class, as carnivo- 
rous, I think we are essentially correct, and that vegeta- 
ble food is taken only when animal food is not readily 
obtained, or because the two can not be dissociated. May 
it not be that the mud found in the intestines of cypri- 
noids was really teeming with life when swallowed, and 
this afforded the nourishment needed by the fish ? 

The various other minnows or shiners that I find, can 
most profitably be considered in groups, for it appears 
that the same localities attract various species of different 
genera. A sweep of the net w T ill often bring up repre- 
sentatives of several natural groups ; for these cyprinoids, 
while nearly the same in their habits, are very different 
in their anatomical structure. Occasionally, however, I 
have found a pool or a little stream teeming with indi- 
viduals of but one or two species. Notably was this true 
when I first met with the typical pug-nosed minnows. 
These, so alike in general appearance, prove to be two 
distinct species, and belong to different genera. The 
great majority were those which, in the manual, are 
called silvery minnows — which all minnows are — and the 
others blunt-nosed shiners. 

* " Illinois State Laboratory of Natural History," Bulletin No. 6, p. 84. 
Normal, Dlinois, 1883. 



412 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

During the summer of 1873, with the assistance of 
an enthusiastic friend, I fished a spring-pond, some dis- 
tance from home, and caught nearly one thousand speci- 
mens of the silvery minnows. From them I made the 
following notes with respect to their size and appear- 
ance : The adult size is probably five inches, and what is 
of much interest to the student is the fact that the intesti- 
nal canal is so very much longer than the fish. On care- 
ful measurement of over one hundred specimens, I found 
this length to vary to a certain extent, though it was 
never less than five and one fourth times the length of 
the fish. Unlike the other cyprinoids, the peritonaeum 
in this species is uniformly and intensely black. The 
food of this shiner I supposed to be wholly vegetable 
matter ; and this would seem to indicate that when the 
digestive tract exceeds the total length of the fish, the 
species is herbivorous, and when of the same length, or 
little exceeding it, that it is omnivorous, or carnivorous. 
This, however, I do not find to hold good. Recent ex- 
aminations of the intestinal tract showed a very large 
percentage of animal matter, and not nearly so much 
mud as Professor Forbes reports in his examinations of 
Illinois specimens. 

During the same summer I found a single specimen 
of the blunt-nosed minnow. It was associated with the 
preceding. The external differences were readily seen, 
but, to make matters the more sure, I dissected it, and the 
short digestive tract and silvery peritonaeum at once 
showed that it was a wholly different species. 

Since then I have frequently found them in numbers 
in the canal and in still water in the river. Many often 
collect in the eddies about the larger projecting rocks, 
and fall a prey to the hungry schools of perch and rock- 
fish. My attention was first called to the abundance of 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 413 

these minnows in the river by finding remains of several 
in the stomach of a rock-fish. 

Neither of these minnows find their way into the 
ditches in the meadows or into Watson's Creek, though 
they often come up into Crosswicks Creek directly from 
the river. They are never, however, so abundant here 
as in the river above tide-water. Cool, clear, constantly 
running water seems to be their natural home. 

There is yet another group of shiners, which is repre- 
sented in the streams near by, by four species. The 
species of this group vary wonderfully in size, as one of 
our largest shiners — the spawn-eater — and the very small- 
est are included in it. This group has no common name 
by which they are known. The term "minnow 3 ' or 
" minnie " is that invariably applied to the smaller repre- 
sentatives ; " shiner " to the larger species. 

The largest of the four species in this natural group, 
and one that is very common in the river, is the so-called 
"spawn-eater." De Kay says of this species, "It is 
called ' spawn-eater ' from an idea entertained by fisher- 
men that it lives exclusively on the spawn of other fishes." 
If this were true, it would be forced to fast about ten 
months of each year, which would not suit fishes in this 
neighborhood, for probably no animal consumes a greater 
bulk of food in the course of a year than a fish. 

The belief that these minnows are spawn-eaters has 
no doubt arisen from the fact that the fish has a sucker- 
like habit of feeling carefully over the bottom of the 
stream with its peculiar " telescopic " mouth extended, 
and so sucking up such food as it finds to its liking. 
The examination of the stomachs of many specimens, at 
different times of the year, shows that, like the common 
roach, it feeds very largely on small Crustacea and the 



414 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

minute mollusca adhering to stones and other stationary 
objects in the beds of our streams. I am quite sure that 
the charge of spawn-eating can not be laid to this fish 
with more reason than to all other cyprinoids. Indeed, 
without an exception, the ova of all other fishes are to 
every species of fish a luscious morsel ; and I have seen 
sufficient evidence to convince me that not only this spe- 
cies, but all cyprinoids, are " spawn-eaters " to a certain ex- 
tent ; but that the name is more deserved by any one spe- 
cies over another, I strongly doubt. 

Another shiner of this group, which has been favored 
with no distinctive name, is very abundant in the rapid 
water of the river, but appears never to seek the quiet 
inland streams. The principal external difference char- 
acterizing this shiner, when compared with the preced- 
ing, is the more tapering snout and the more slender and 
graceful outline of the whole body. 

Some years ago, I found many of them in very swift 
waters, at the mouth of the Assunpink Creek. They 
seemed to be determined to go up the falls, and never 
tired of making efforts to ascend, although, of course, they 
made no progress. I captured a few and sent them to 
an ichthyologist in Philadelphia, who pronounced them a 
" new species," and gave them a Greek name ; but in the 
manual they are said not to be "new," but old. To me 
they are minnows of good size, great activity, and beau- 
tiful color, and so they add a charm to the waters they in- 
habit, and what more need one care to know ? 

So much for the larger shiners of this group; but 
what of the smaller ones ? These also must be considered 
collectively, for I never found the one species without 
as many individuals of the other, and never saw a solitary 
individual of either. Then, too, wherever these little min- 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 415 

nows are found, there are sure to be a host of similar- 
looking fish, but which, in consequence of some extra 
wrinkle in their skins, are called by another and longer 
scientific name. This need not concern us, however, as 
they are all little minnows, the most diminutive of the 
whole family of cyprinoids. 

In every little water-way throughout the meadows, 
as well as in the two creeks and the river, these three lit- 
tle species of minnows are at all times extremely abun- 
dant. They are the first to appear in open water when 
the ice is disappearing, and they are the last to leave 
their summer haunts when the ice binds every ditch and 
brook in crystal fetters. Perhaps it is nearer the truth 
to say that they are " on the go " the year through, as I 
have recorded them as abundant at various times during 
the three winter months. 

While the social habits of these three small fishes 
— none ever measuring two inches in length — clearly in- 
dicate that they possess some rudiments of intelligence, 
it is not easy to determine in what way they enjoy exist- 
ence, if the term " enjoyment " is applicable to them. 
I have watched schools of them for hours, and find that 
their sole efforts are directed toward escaping dangers. 
The three species, collectively, have more enemies than 
any other creatures in the same neighborhood. 'No mam- 
mal, bird, reptile, or amphibian, nor any species of fish, is 
beset with half so many enemies. There is not a preda- 
tory fish in the same waters that does not largely de- 
pend upon them for food ; the young of larger cyprinoids 
being, of course, available yearly but for a brief period. 
Even the frogs seize them as eagerly as they do strug- 
gling grasshoppers or chance insects ; the snakes and 
turtles chase them eagerly, or take them by surprise, as 
opportunity offers. If a receding tide leaves them in 



416 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

shallow waters, birds of a dozen species eagerly hunt 
them, and late in the spring, when after the freshets 
chance pools become nearly or quite dry, mice and squir- 
rels will feast upon the decaying bodies of these little 
minnows, that may have escaped the searching glances 
of our many birds. Even spiders have been known to 
capture single specimens and lift them from the water. 
Their principal safety appears to lie in taking refuge in 
weeds, where they are not seen so readily. I found that 
this was their principal method of avoiding the single 
predatory fish I kept in the same tank with them. They 
are not disposed to remain hidden, however ; and soon 
after rushing pell-mell into a mass of weeds, they reap- 
pear and face the dangers that they know confront them. 
Where they feed and what they feed upon I can not say, 
but their movements at times clearly indicate that they 
find something to prey upon, but the objects are so small 
that I could not detect them with the naked eye. This I 
have tried by scooping up a bucket of water where the 
minnows were feeding, but such efforts availed nothing. 
I am satisfied that, small as they are, these little minnows 
are carnivorous, and suggest that they have the power of 
seeing such forms of animal life as can only be detected 
by man with the aid of a microscope. 

When these little minnows enter the more shallow 
waters, in March and April, it will be noticed that the 
coloring of about one half their numbers is more brill- 
iant than during summer and autumn. The fins are even 
rosy, and the lower lines of scales almost crimson. Early 
in May this color begins to fade, and is soon replaced by 
the characteristic silvery hue of the remaining months of 
the year. This growth, climax, and fading of gorgeous 
colors, which is confined to the male fishes, correspond 
with the growth of the eggs in the females, and their 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES, 417 

deposition. Just when this takes place I have not been 
able to determine,, nor whether it is preceded by the 
building of a nest of pebbles, as we shall see is the- case 
with the equally common black-nosed dace, to which ref- 
erence will be made on a subsequent page. 

Passing through the meadows, over to Crosswicks 
Creek, I often linger by one of the large springs issuing 
from the hill-side, for the purpose of watching the score 
or more of " silver-fins " that are always there. Although 
these fishes are of a dull, silvery hue only, they are, 
nevertheless, exceedingly beautiful. They have an inde- 
scribable grace, and are very conspicuous from the satin- 
white coloring of their fins. Found only in clear, rap- 
idly-running waters, they are in all respects fit occupants 
of such localities, and do not give the impression of being 
intruders, as do the occasional roach or cat-fish that hap- 
pen to wander into the same spring-brooks. A silver-fin 
is as much at home in the spring-brooks as the trout it- 
self. 

The habits of this cyprinoid are essentially the same 
as those of the red-fin, already described. They spawn 
in May, depositing the ova in little basins of clean sand 
in the bed of the stream, and there the eggs are left, 
without a trace of subsequent attention from the parent 
fishes. I believe the young fish are two years old before 
they acquire the satin-white coloring of the fins which 
makes them the most conspicuous of all our cyprinoids, 
except the red-fins. 

In less attractive places, but where the water has a 
decided current and is moderately clear, as in the canal 
and the river, there is another scarcely less attractive 
minnow, which the author of the manual quite ignores. 
This is the rosy minnow, that I first found, nearly ten 
years ago, in the canal near here. In general appear- 



418 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

ance it is more like the rosy minnow described years ago 
by Professor Agassiz, than any other cyprinoid, though 
it is quite different. 

The first specimens that I found were collected late 
in August, and the colors noted while they were in an 
aquarium. The back is olive-green, the sides bright sil- 
very; the scales generally marked with minute black 
dots. As in the preceding, it is not the coloring but the 
general appearance and grace of movement that make 
this species so attractive and beautiful. 

The name of rosy minnow is only applicable to the 
male fish in spring, when the silvery sides become a 
beautiful shade of red. This lasts, however, but for a 
few weeks. 

Since 1873, when I first found these minnows, I have 
collected many others, and always in the canal or river. 
They do not appear to enter Crosswicks Creek at all, 
though why they should prefer the canal to the creek and 
the net-work of ditches, is a problem I will not attempt 
to solve. 

Associated with the above, in several instances, as I 
find recorded in my notes, were individuals of a curious 
cyprinoid, the "rosy dace" of the manual, and "pike- 
shiner" of my memoranda. These cyprinoids are of 
great interest because they have a fierce, pike-like appear- 
ance, and their habits are in accordance with their ap- 
pearance. In other words, they are very suggestive of 
evolution, and are, in fact, an apparent branching off 
from the original stock. 

To see these "pike-shiners," as the boys about here 
call them, singly, moving deliberately about, at once re- 
calls the pike ; and while I have never seen them catch a 
fish and devour it, they do snap and swallow insects in the 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 419 

most approved trout-like manner. Other cyprinoids do 
the same, I know, but none have the pike-like quickness, 
and I may add ferocity, of this species. This I thoroughly 
tested by keeping several of them in my aquarium. 
They quickly caused to disappear a score of the small min- 
nows in the tank ; although I never could see them in 
the act of molesting these smaller fishes. 

They are not abundant, and I am not sure but that I 
should have overlooked them had I not heard them 
spoken of by juvenile anglers, who asked me if the fish 
in question were "real shiners or some sort of a pike." 
These boys had become familiar with a species of fish in 
this neighborhood that had, up to that time, wholly es- 
caped me. I have been less positive as to the extent and 
accuracy of my knowledge of our fishes ever since. 

The true dace, of which I find two species, are very 
different in every respect from the preceding. One of 
them, the black-nosed dace, is an exceedingly common 
species, and is found in every brook and ditch that has 
anything of a current. Like the red-fins and silver-fins, 
these dace must always be struggling up stream, and 
darting, when frightened, down stream ; but in quiet 
water they are at once lost, and, after moving restlessly 
about in a vain endeavor to find a current, they give up 
the effort and the ghost together. 

Mr. C. F. Holder, from whom I have already quoted 
in regard to other fishes, remarks of the black-nosed 
dace : " In the warm weeks of June come the sterner 
duties, the nesting-time; male and female join in the 
preparation, and the locality is selected, perhaps in some 
running brook, in shallow water. Roots, snags, and 
leaves are carried away, both sometimes tugging at a sin- 
gle piece, taking it down stream, and working faithfully, 



420 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

until we, who are watching from the bank, despite the 
strong protest of the ants, see a clearing over two feet in 
diameter. Here the first eggs are deposited, and the 
male, who has retired, soon appears from up-stream, bear- 
ing in its mouth a pebble, that is placed among the eggs 
that form a layer in the center of the clearing. Now 
they both swim away, soon returning, each bearing a peb- 
ble in its mouth that is dropped upon the eggs. Slowly 
the work goes on, until a layer of clean pebbles apparent- 
ly covers the eggs ; now the female deposits a second 
layer of eggs, and more pebbles are brought, the little 
workers scouring the neighborhood for them, piling up 
stones and eggs alternately until the heap attains a height 
of eight inches or more, formed in various shapes, some- 
times pyramidal or dome-shaped — monuments of the 
patience of these finny house-keepers. Who would sus- 
pect their purpose? Even the gleaners of the golden 
fields, in whose brooks our little friends are found, have 
not discovered their secret, and think the curious piles 
washings of the brook itself." 

The other dace, the long-nosed species, is still more 
dependent upon clear running water, and dies immediate- 
ly if placed in still waters, as in an aquarium. Even 
water kept cold with ice does not suit them. It must be 
both cool and rapidly flowing. 

There is but one brook within the range of my ram- 
bles where the long-nosed dace is found, and here they 
occur but sparingly. I have usually found them beneath 
flat stones, or hidden by the overhanging banks of the 
brook. The moment they are surprised, away they dart, 
and seek shelter in some such place as I have mentioned. 
For this reason they are difficult to capture, and being 
but seldom seen, unless carefully looked for, they are 
readily overlooked by the casual observer. 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 421 

The sixteen species of fishes that have been so briefly 
referred to in the preceding pages are worthy of much 
study, but collectively, rather than with a view of deter- 
mining just in what particulars they differ among them- 
selves. As a group, they are of much importance in the 
economy of nature, as must necessarily be the case where 
any animal exists in vast numbers in comparatively 
crowded quarters. 

During the past few summers I have studied these 
fishes as a group, in the hope of discovering the influence 
they exerted upon the general fauna of the locality, and 
have reached the conclusion that the part that cyprinoids 
play is mainly that of a check upon the undue increase 
of lower forms of aquatic animal life. In consequence of 
their vast numbers, they prevent the fouling of much 
water that would otherwise become offensive, and yet do 
not, of themselves, contaminate the water, however nu- 
merous they may be. 

Cyprinoids, as a class, are carnivorous, or more prop- 
erly omnivorous ; and although with weak, toothless 
jaws, the arming of their pharyngeal bones with power- 
ful cutting and crushing teeth enables them to feed 
upon animal substances as readily as do the predatory 
species of fish. I judge that the great bulk of their 
food is the minute animal life that teems in all water, 
and also the small mollusca, of which they devour 
enormous quantities. The result of my studies of such 
of these fishes as I have kept in aquaria is, that young 
mollusca are the favorite food of cyprinoids, for I found 
it very difficult to so plentifully supply them as to sur- 
feit the fish to which they were offered. It is in this 
way, I believe, that the cyprinoids aid materially in 
keeping our streams in that condition which we call 
" pure." 



422 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

From an evolution stand-point, these fishes are ex- 
ceedingly interesting, and, I may add, instructive. By 
a " species " let me here state that nothing is meant but 
a convenient arrangement of the various forms of animal 
life for purposes of study ; and in the " species " of eypri- 
noids is seen only so many varied forms evolved by natu- 
ral selection from some primitive form of omnivorous 
fresh-water fish, from which has sprung a variety of 
forms, through a countless series of generations, that 
have, each in its own place and time, become suited to 
the particular haunts they chanced to frequent or were 
forced to occupy. Considering a " species " in this way, 
and also bearing in mind the amount of variation seen 
among any considerable number of individuals of any 
one species, and knowing that varieties are steadily be- 
coming more and more differentiated and are thus enter- 
ing what may be termed " specific territory," I claim that 
it is not an unwarranted use of the imagination to picture 
to one's self a primitive, typical cyprinoid, from which 
the sixteen so-called " species " in this neighborhood have 
been derived. 

The Delaware River and its several tributaries in this 
neighborhood are well supplied with that family of fishes 
popularly known as " suckers " ; fish that are most nearly 
allied to the cyprinoids proper, about which we have just 
been speaking. I have always been puzzled to find the 
merits of these great lubberly fish. The last considera- 
tion in my mind, in studying animals, is their value as 
food for man ; though even in this regard very little can 
be said in favor of these abundant, but utterly stale, flat, 
and unprofitable fish. 

Inasmuch as these same suckers, or catostomoids, are 
among the earliest of the river fishes to come up stream 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 423 

in the spring, they should have a kindly word spoken of 
them. Unfortunately, they come in such a stupid, list- 
less manner, that no enthusiasm is roused in watching 
them, as there is when the first flock of blackbirds 
darkens the sky in March. When I see the suckers in 
March moving slowly up the creeks, I always think of 
the 

" ten thousand men 
That marched up hill and then marched down again." 
There does not appear to be any animation about them ; 
no points of interest that stay our footsteps for a moment. 
As an urchin of five summers once remarked to me, 
" Does they knows what they's come for ? " It is an open 
question whether they do or not. I have found what I 
take to be their bones in Indian shell-heaps on Crosswicks 
Creek, and my only wonder is that the Indians should 
have thought them fit to eat. 

The manual, at hand, to which I refer for the most 
recent nomenclature of the " species" found in these 
waters, allows us five varieties of " suckers." 

Of these there are two, known locally as " river suck- 
ers," which throng the river and creeks in March and 
then very generally disappear, or, in other words, return 
whence they came, to the deep waters of the lower, tide- 
water portion of the river. A third species, which my 
neighbors call the " chub-sucker," is also found in the 
river, but, unlike the others, is equally abundant the year 
through. It is particularly obnoxious to those who are 
fond of line-fishing, as it is believed to be, of all spawn - 
eaters, the most persistent and destructive. I have en- 
deavored to trace out the origin .of this common impres- 
sion, but without success. That it is true of it I doubt. 
A still less abundant species of this group is that known 
locally as the " mud-sucker." This local name is said by 



424: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

the author of the manual to be inappropriate, and that 
the fish frequents clear streams and rapids, and is not at 
all a " innd-fish," as some writers seem to suppose. Now 
it is very probably true that this fish is a " stone-roller " 
out West, but this does not prevent its poking into the 
mud in the Delaware Yalley. Some years ago I found 
a number of these fish in Crosswicks Creek, and noticed 
their decided preference for the muddy bottom and com- 
paratively still waters of certain portions of the creek ; 
and in all the years since then, there has been nothing 
noticed in their choice of locality that has led me to think 
otherwise. In this same creek there is an abundance of 
rapid waters and pebbly bottoms, but these are not fre- 
quented more than the mud. Since the publication of 
the manual, I have looked this up, and know whereof I 
speak. For instance, one pleasant August afternoon in 
1881, 1 slowly floated with the tide down the creek, and 
carefully watched a number of these black suckers as they 
were slowly swimming up the creek. They were all 
moving in the same manner, with their noses thrust a 
short distance into the mud, and they left behind them, 
as they passed by, a shallow, wavy line in the mud, 
which was easily traced through the clear waters. Had 
I seen no fish, I should have taken these lines to have 
been the tracks of mollusks. 

Lastly, there is the omnipresent " mullet," and verily 
I do not think there is a rod of shallow ditch, even, that 
is not tenanted by a dozen of them. When young, they 
associate with whatever cyprinoids happen to be wan- 
dering in the same waters, their habits being essen- 
tially the same. Unlike the other four " suckers " I have 
mentioned, this fish, when young, thrives well in per- 
fectly quiet water, and seems to suffer no inconvenience 
when the July sun warms the still ponds to such a degree 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 425 

that all the other fishes leave in disgust, and seek the 
bubbling springs, or bury themselves in the mud. This 
latter is a trick of many fishes that are not supposed to 
have any liking for either mud or " thick " water. 

Adult mullet differ from the young of one or two 
summers in being strictly nocturnal. Throughout the 
day they remain quietly at rest among the weeds in the 
bottom of the creek or ditch, but on the approach of dark- 
ness they are full of activity, and not only wander to and 
fro through the water, but come to the surface and even 
leap above it. The change is very great. It is during 
this excited state, or throughout the night, that these fish 
utter audible sounds which will be referred to in a subse- 
quent page. 

There are two well defined species of cat-fish common 
to the river and creeks about here, and it often happens 
that an apparent third species is found ; but this I am 
inclined to consider is merely a hybrid. 

Of these, the first is the common white cat-fish. This 
is exceedingly abundant in the river and in all running 
waters. Such localities it prefers — indeed, are essential 
to it — and once out of them, it promptly suffers much 
discomfort. It is due to this fact, I suppose, that it is 
far less tenacious of life than the other species. 

In the river, the white cat-fish, which by the way is 
often glossy black, and sometimes mottled, is usually 
found associated with the schools of white perch, when 
the latter are coming up the river. The cat-fish, however, 
do not migrate, as do the perch. So far as I have been 
able to learn by questioning old fishermen, there is no 
one time of the year when they are more abundant than 
at others. 

These fish, it would seem, have been utilized by some 



426 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

who would fain foretell the character of the coming win- 
ters. I have endeavored to trace the origin of many of 
these " sayings," as already mentioned when speaking of 
the squirrels and musk-rats, and I also tried to determine 
how much truth might be contained in any of these so- 
called signs. In not one of them has anything worthy 
of credence been found. Here is a " weather sign " re- 
ferring to cat-fish, which I have clipped from a newspa- 
per. It is evidently as meaningless as are all such so- 
called signs : 

" How do you tell when it's going to be a cold win- 
ter, Uncle Abe?" 

" I mostly tells by de fish. I been a fisher all my life, 
ever since I been a little nigger so high, and if you no- 
tice a cat-fish in de fall you will see dat sometimes de 
skin on his belly is thick and sometimes it is thin. 
When its thick dar's gwine to be a cold winter, an 5 when 
it's thin dar's gwine to be a warm 'un. I never knowed 
dat sign to fail." 

" How is their skin this winter, Uncle Abe ? " 

" I'm mighty sorry to say, chile, it's mighty thick." 

The other and even more abundant cat-fish is the 
" mud-cat," or, as my young friends invariably call it, the 
"catty." This is essentially a meadow and "Watson's 
Creek species with us, and it is almost as abundant, even 
in the ditches, as the mullet. 

However enthusiastic one may be, I can scarcely con- 
ceive of any one becoming excited over a sleepy cat-fish, 
as it lazily loafs over stretches of mud, and threads its 
languid way through a forest of lily-stems. This, in fact, 
about covers the range of its habits for fully ten months 
of the year, as I have no reason to believe that cat-fish 
hibernate ; at least, about here. 






BRIEF NOTES OF FISHES. 427 

During the months of May and June there is a 
change for the better, and it is interesting to observe the 
care then exhibited by the parent fish in guarding' their 
numerous progeny. Unlike the majority of our fishes, 
who know nothing of their young, the cat-fish guard 
theirs with much solicitude, and often brave great dan- 
gers to extricate such of their young as may have fallen 
into trouble. In thus caring for their offspring, they 
remind one forcibly of a hen and her chickens. The old 
fish scratches the mud, or rather roots it up, with as 
much earnestness as a hen does the dunghill ; and the 
young fish crowd about her head, as eager for something 
edible as are the chicks for worms or seeds. The simi- 
larity may extend further, and the old fish may cluck to 
her young ; but of this I am not positive, though I am 
inclined to believe it. That cat-fish have a fairly well 
developed voice is unquestionable. 

In order to test the patience and affection for their 
young, possessed by this fish, I experimented in this 
manner : With a scoop-net I captured nearly an entire 
brood, and put them into a large glass globe, which I 
covered at the top with fine sieving. Placing the globe 
with its contents in the water, I was delighted to find 
that the parent fish evidently recognized its offspring, 
and was, as can well be imagined, in great trouble and 
perplexity at their evident imprisonment, which was a 
great mystery. The parent fish swam boldly up to the 
glass, and was brought to a stand-still by the unseen bar- 
rier which separated her from her young. So long as I 
watched, the bewildered fish did not cease her efforts to 
break through the mysterious something that prevented 
her young from escaping. I "left the globe in the water 
through the night, and found early the next morning 
that the faithful parent was still at her post. As the 



428 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

confinement was proving fatal to some of the young fish, 
I released them. The parent remained as near as she 
dared, and as the young clustered about her she seemed 
to give each a kindly greeting and no doubt a word of 
advice, for no sooner was the globe emptied than the 
whole brood surrounded their parent, and quickly swam 
away in very compact ranks. 

To this day, if fishes talk, the curious adventures of 
that brood of cat-fish are surely related by the descendants 
of those who were concerned in them. 

I subsequently repeated this experiment with certain 
variations, and with even more satisfactory results. I 
placed the glass globe containing the brood of young cat- 
fish on the bank of the stream from which they were 
taken, and in full view of the parent fish, which was 
greatly excited by being deprived of her charge. This 
fish at once recognized that her young were not in the 
creek although they were swimming in water. After a 
variety of restless movements, its curiosity overcame its 
discretion ; and it left the creek, and, as best it could, 
made its way to the base of the globe containing her 
young, a distance of about two feet. Here she remained 
for nine minutes, quietly watching her brood, and then 
returned to the water. In a few moments she returned, 
having recovered from the effects of exposure to the air. 
I now liberated the young cat-fish ; and they immediately 
clustered about their parent and followed her into deep 
water. 

Wherever you find cat-fish it is quite certain that eels 
also abound in equal or greater numbers. In most of 
their habits the two species of fish are quite alike, when 
in the same ditch or pond ; but the eel has this advan- 
tage over the cat-fish, that it can leave the water when 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 429 

it chooses and wander away to some new locality. To 
what extent this power to live in the atmosphere for a 
long time, and progress, snake-like, for long distances 
through wet grass, explains their presence in small spring- 
ponds without surface outlets, I do not know, but that 
it bears directly upon this question can not be doubted. 

In the spring of 1879, while watching the progress 
of the work of grubbing and otherwise clearing a piece 
of swamp-meadow, I was surprised to find a group of eels, 
seventeen in number, in a mossy mass of earth and roots 
of loose texture, through which water from a spring near 
by freely circulated, but not in such quantities as to en- 
able a fish to swim. These eels were not a tangled mass, 
so interwrapped as to suggest the idea that they sought 
contact with each other for mutual aid or warmth, but 
each was twisted, rather than coiled, in quite a snake- 
like manner by itself, and while each was very near its 
neighbors, probably no two were in contact. On taking 
them up — they varied from six inches to a foot in length 
— they seemed somewhat sluggish and indisposed to es- 
cape until revived, as it appeared, by the warmth of the 
hand, when they struggled to be free ; and several es- 
caped, as they were covered, as I subsequently found, by 
an unusually thick coat of slime. Their movements over 
the damp earth were quite unembarrassed, and I noticed 
that while there was nothing to indicate the proximity 
of running water, these escaping eels wriggled in a very 
direct line for the nearest point at which they could 
reach the ditch. I permitted them all to escape but two, 
which I dissected. There was so small an amount of 
matter in their stomachs and intestines, that they must 
have been fasting during their semi-aquatic sojourn in 
the spot where I found them. 

Close examination showed that the spring-water did 



430 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

not and had not run as a stream from or through this 
spot ; and though it was submerged during unusually 
high water, yet it was not possible that those eels had 
reached here during a freshet, and had remained here 
ever since, especially as it was more than a year since the 
place had been under water. There was every indication 
that these eels had voluntarily left the ditch, some fifty 
feet distant, and sought out this spring-hole, which, owing 
to its southern exposure and constant supply of water, 
was certainly a comfortable spot. But the question 
arises, Is this a common occurrence ? Furthermore, do 
eels habitually hibernate, choosing ordinarily the soft, 
muddy bottoms of our deeper ponds, and the tidal por- 
tions of our rivers ? I know they are generally supposed 
to do so, but the frequency with which I have taken 
them when fishing in deep waters under the ice, has led 
me to doubt whether the habit is as common as is sup- 
posed. 

It is fitting that my notes on our common fishes 
should terminate with the rarest of them all, the gar, 
which of late years is but rarely seen in the Delaware or 
its tributaries. Not only are they seldom seen now, but 
I find no reference to them in the writings of such early 
travelers as took an interest in the fauna of the country. 

The gar should not be confounded with the bill-fish, 
which is also called "gar " by many of our fishermen. 

The true gar is found in the river all the year round, 
and occasionally a big fellow wanders into Crosswicks 
Creek, near by, and here I have occasionally been fortu- 
nate enough to see them. 

As to their habits, so far as I am concerned, there is 
not much to be said. They are much like the pike, re- 
main much of the time half concealed in the river -weeds, 



BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 431 

and when a small fish comes near, dart at and seize it 
with all the agility of that fish. Sometimes they seize a 
large chub midway across the body, and worry it nearly 
into halves by a slight motion of the jaws. When satis- 
fied that the chub can not escape, they loosen their hold, 
and, taking it in a more convenient manner, they swallow 
it without further preliminary carving. Zadoc Thomp- 
son, in his " History of Vermont," refers to the feeding 
habits of the gar as follows : " This singular fish was de- 
scribed by Samuel Chainplain as an inhabitant of the lake 
now bearing his name, more than two hundred years ago.' 
He called it Chausarou, which was probably the Indian 
name. The Indians assured him they were often seen 
eight or ten feet long, but the largest he saw was only 
five feet long, and about the thickness of a man's thigh. 
It is considered a very voracious fish, and when any of 
them are taken or seen in the water, the fishermen calcu- 
late upon little success in taking other kinds. Charle- 
voix tells us that he preys not only upon other fishes, but 
upon birds also ; and that he takes them by the follow- 
ing stratagem : concealing himself among the reeds grow- 
ing on the marshy borders of the lake, he thrusts his 
bill out of the water in an upright position. The bird, 
wanting rest, takes this for a broken limb or dry reed, 
and perches upon it. The fish then opens his mouth and 
makes such a sudden spring that the bird seldom es- 
capes him. Charlevoix also assures us that the Indians 
regarded the teeth of this fish as a sovereign remedy 
for the headache, and that pricking with it where the 
pain was sharpest took it away instantly." I must con- 
fess I have my doubts about this stratagem on the part of 
the gar, but if it was true of them in Charlevoix's time, 
is it at all probable that they have lost the art since ? On 
the other hand, if gars were so smart then, were other 



432 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

fishes equally cunning, and have they all become less 
knowing in their ways ? 

There seems to be an impression that the gar is a 
fresh-water fish exclusively, but this is a grave error. I 
have learned from observing fishermen that many more 
are caught in the brackish waters of Delaware Bay than 
higher up the river. "Whether they ever pass out to sea 
I do not know, but certainly they often go to the very 
dividing line between the bay and the ocean proper. 

My last opportunity of seeing a living gar was late in ' 
the summer of 1880. My attention was attracted to it by 
its coming to the surface and discharging a great mass of 
air, which formed bubbles on the water. Then the fish 
floated for several minutes, lying so near the surface that 
a small portion of his entire length appeared to be out of 
water. Suddenly he rolled over and disappeared. An 
hour later, I saw what I suppose was the same fish, go 
through the same motions, about one hundred yards 
from the spot where I first saw him. The habit of 
coming to the surface to discharge air seems to be com- 
mon to them, but in the few instances that I have seen 
there was no sound made at the same time, so far as I 
could determine. 






CHAPTER XXXVII. 



TRACES OF VOICES IX FISHES. 



In Peschel's volume on " The Eaces of Man/ 5 I find 
the following paragraph, and it seems a fitting text where- 
with to preface a few remarks on the subject of indica- 
tions of voice in some of our fishes. He says : " If speech 
be but the means of communicating emotions or inten- 
tions to other beings, even invertebrate animals possess 
faculties of the same nature. We see insects, such as 
ants, which live in so-called communities, carrying out 
elaborately preconcerted warlike undertakings and attacks. 
A beetle, which in rolling the ball of dung inclosing its 
egg has allowed it to slip into a hole from which it is un- 
able to extricate it, flies away, to return in a short time 
with a number of assistants sufficient to push the ball up 
the sides of the declivity by co-operation of labor. These 
creatures must, therefore, unquestionably possess some 
means of communicating with each other concerning this 
combination. It requires no long observation of our song- 
birds to distinguish the different tones by which they 
warn their young of danger, or call them to feed, or by 
which they attract each other to pair. These animals, 
therefore, have at their control a certain number of sig- 
nals which are quite adequate to procure for them some 
few of the wants of their life, and these signals, as far as 
we can at present guess, have been acquired and inherited 
in the same manner as were their instincts." 

19 



434 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Although we are all familiar with the lazy drum-fish 
of our coast — and some may have heard those grunting 
sounds that have given this species its common name — 
the little fishes of our inland brooks and the more preten- 
tious denizens of our rivers are looked upon as voiceless 
creatures, so that if they have ideas, they must express 
them by movements entirely, not of one portion, but of 
the whole body. In fact, however, the conditions that 
obtain among insects and birds, as mentioned in the quo- 
tation from Dr. Peschel, are, in a measure, applicable to 
some of our fishes ; at least, in my studies of the habits 
of our more common species, I have been led to believe 
that certain sounds made by these fishes are really vocal 
efforts, and that their utterance is for the purpose of ex- 
pressing an idea ; and, furthermore, I am of the opinion 
that these sounds are closely connected with their breed- 
ing habits, although I have heard them at other seasons. 

Probably no one has failed to notice the brilliant col- 
ors of the restless red-fin, as it darts to and fro through 
the clear waters of a crystal brook, or the bright orange- 
tinted fins of the silvery roach, that ere summer has 
passed pale to dull yellow and lose all their glow ; but 
while with all our fishes there is at one time of the year 
a deepening of every tint, this is in no wise comparable 
to the gorgeous hues Nature has vouchsafed to a certain 
few. My studies of the habits of these common fishes 
have led me to think that the bright colors of spring-time, 
which are analogous to the breeding plumage of male 
birds, might possibly bear the same relationship to vocal 
sounds that the songs and plumage of birds do to each 
other. With but few exceptions, our finest songsters are 
dull-colored birds. Have our plainer-tinted fishes a com- 
pensation for this attraction of color in the ability to ut- 
ter sounds ? 






TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 



435 



After several summers spent in observing the breed- 
ing habits of these common fishes, I have ventured to 
form two tables, relating to the breeding habits and their 
connection with the color and supposed voice of sixteen 
species of fresh-water fishes. In the first of these, I have 
simply separated them into bright and dull-colored spe- 
cies; the bright coloration referring to the breeding 
dress or spring tinting. In the second list, I have sepa- 
rated them according to their supposed vocal powers; 
and it will be seen on comparison that a combination of 
voice and conspicuous coloring does not occur. 

Table I. 



Brilliant Colors. 




Dull or Silvery. 


Yellow perch. 




Pirate. 


Common sunfish. 




Mud sunfish. 


Eiver sunfish. 




Gizzard shad. 


Ked-fin. 




Mullet. 

Eel. 

Cat-fish. 

Lamprey. 

Sturgeon. 




Table 


II. 


Supposed Vocal Power. 




Voiceless. 


Pirate. 




Yellow perch. 


Mud sunfish. 




Common sunfish, 


Gizzard shad. 




Eiver sunfish. 


Mullet. 




Banded sunfish. 


Lamprey. 




Chuh. 


Cat-fish. 




Eoach. 


Eel. 




Eed-fin. 


Sturgeon. 




Pike. 
Bill-fish. 



We have here enumerated four species that are brill- 
iantly colored, and eight that are dull or simply silvery ; 
and of the former, none are believed to have any voice 



436 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

proper, while of the eight of the right hand, all are be- 
lieved to be so endowed. In the right-hand column of 
Table II, it will be noticed that among the " voiceless " 
species are included the four highly-colored fishes and 
five others, all of silvery tints, which I have carefully 
studied, and which have no habit, so far as I could dis- 
cover, that would separate them from the species that are 
without a voice. We can then scarcely avoid the conclu- 
sion, that with fishes as with birds the brilliantly-colored 
males, as a rule, are mostly if not wholly dependent on 
their hues to attract the females during the amatory sea- 
son. 

Those who may be familiar with the common chub 
will doubtless urge, as an exception, that the peculiar 
grunting sounds made by it when taken from the water 
entitle it to a place among the fishes that are supposed to 
have a voice. Cope, in his " Cyprinidse of Pennsylvania," 
says, " When taken from the water, it (the chub) utters a 
chirruping and croaking noise, more like a voice than 
any sound heard from any other fresh-water fish of our 
region." I have not, however, been able to detect this 
sound except when removed from the water, and as the 
fish is then out of its proper element and struggling, it 
may be involuntary. The deep-bronze and golden-green 
tints of the mud sunfish, too, might be urged as a case of 
high coloration and a sexual attraction, and so it should 
be voiceless ; but this fish, of all those observed by me, 
has been the one most frequently to utter sounds volun- 
tarily when confined in an aquarium. I doubt not there 
are very many exceptions, and one great objection to the 
suggestions I have made is that there probably is too great 
an array of opposing facts. But to refer once more to 
the case of birds. Assuming the correctness of evolution, 
as I do, then we need go back but a very short period in 



TRACES OF VOICES m FISHES. 437 

geological time to see the numerous species of our birds 
reduced to single representatives of each genus, and even 
far fewer of so-called genera. With the avifauna thus 
simplified, the differences that now exist between our 
somber-hued songsters and the gayly-colored songless 
birds were more distinctly drawn ; and this may have 
been true also of our fishes. The vast influence brought 
to bear upon all animals by their surroundings, and the 
increasing struggle for existence, has evolved in later 
times, and ever is evolving, innumerable variations in the 
forms of life ; and these changes have in so great a meas- 
ure obscured the conditions that once characterized both 
our birds and fishes, in the matter of the relationship of 
voice and color, that what I believe to have been once a 
well-marked feature of animal life is now traced with 
difficulty. Nevertheless, the many instances of apparent 
voice that I have noticed, and their relationship to color, 
induce me to believe that what is now scarcely a rule, 
perhaps, among fishes, was once a law that governed 
them. 

In studying these same fishes in another phase of their 
habits, we see that, while all the species enumerated are 
more or less active throughout the day, some of them 
are far more so at night, and shun, if undisturbed, the 
£lare of the midday sunshine. These partially if not 
strictly nocturnal species are those that I have considered 
as having the power to give out or utter a truly vocal 
sound, and they are the more plainly colored species. 
The brilliant tints being of little or no use by night, ne- 
cessitates the diurnal habits of those fishes possessing 
them, while the nocturnal species, with a voice as a com- 
pensation for the lack of color, are enabled to carry on a 
courtship in part by its aid, which would be of little or 
no use during the day. 



438 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Having given an outline of the conclusions reached 
on the supposed relationship of voice and color among 
certain of our common fresh-water fishes, let us consider 
in detail the characteristic habits of two of the best known 
and most widely differing species of the lists. As repre- 
senting the voiceless but gayly-colored fishes, let us take 
the common sunfish, and, on the other hand, the equally 
familiar cat-fish as an instance of a fish that has the power 
of uttering a sound — that has the rudiments of a voice. 

With the bursting of the leaf-buds and disappearance 
of the ice from the shady nooks of our quiet inland 
ponds, the gayly-tinted sunfish, which all winter long has 
been lazily loafing in the deeper waters, polishes up his 
old coat until it looks as well as new, and, coming boldly 
to the sunny shallows, he darts restlessly about, an object 
of admiration to himself, and, what is of more importance, 
to others as well, and before the flowers of May have 
faded he has succeeded in getting a mate. But the 
courtship of this gaudy fish has been no easy matter. 
Hundreds of his kind, as bright as he, have, like him, 
striven by the hour to clear the field of every rival ; and 
the clear waters are often turbid with sand and grass torn 
from the bed of the stream, as the older males chase each 
other ^from point to point, endeavoring by a successful 
snap to mutilate each other's fins. No courtship battles 
among birds are more earnestly fought, and as the bird 
with bedraggled feathers is wise enough to withdraw 
from the contest and quietly seek a mate when his soiled 
plumage is in part restored, so the sunfish with torn 
fins retires from the contested nesting-ground. But not 
a sound has been made by these excited fishes except that 
of the rippling water when cut by their spiny fins as they 
chanced to reach above the surface. Never, when for a 
moment quiet, have I chanced to see the delicate chain 



TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 439 

of silvery bubbles that escape from the mouth of the 
mud sunfish when, shall I say, calling to its mate. At 
night, I believe, the sunfish rests from his labors. I 
have not been able to detect any of his spring-time vivaci- 
ty after sunset, and hence I am led to conclude that his 
sole dependence in securing a mate is in his brilliant 
coloring. 

What a contrast is presented in the lazy, dull-colored 
cat-fish that slowly wanders over the muddy bed of the 
stream ; if perchance he is moving about at all during the 
day ! Not a motion can be detected that is not referable, 
without doubt, to so prosaic a matter as the search for 
food. If a dozen or more come together, it is but to 
hunt in concert, and nothing of the nature of a contest is 
to be seen. But after sunset every one of them becomes 
suddenly more animated, and there is a marked restless- 
ness in every movement, as they congregate in large num- 
bers in some limited area. At such a time, their presence 
is to be detected not only by the aid of submarine lan- 
terns, and all the troublesome helps that one must employ 
to study fishes at night, but there is an opportunity given 
to use the ears as well as eyes, and by careful, patient 
watching and waiting we may hear, even from the deeper 
waters, a gentle humming sound which, if noticed at all, 
would by most people be referred to the insect-life teem- 
ing about them. If, knowing or suspecting the true origin 
of this gentle murmur, we can, without alarming the fish, 
float our boat directly above them, we will find that scores 
of chains of little air-bubbles are rising to the surface ; and 
as the sound increases or dies away, in proportion to the 
abundance or absence of the bubbles, it is safe to refer it 
to the fishes, which produce it by voluntarily expelling 
the air from their bodies. 

I have not the space here to enumerate all the cir- 



440 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

cumstances connected with these supposed voluntary 
emissions of sound by certain of our fishes, eight species 
of which I have particularly mentioned. Brief references 
to the others must here suffice. Concerning the first 
mentioned of our little list, the spineless perch or pirate, 
my knowledge has been largely derived from aquarial 
studies ; and although the diminutive size of the largest 
specimens obtained renders it difficult to ascertain whether 
the sound accompanied the expulsion of air from their 
bodies, I have always felt quite sure that I detected it, 
and the actions of the fish, when the sexes were separated 
by fine sieving in the aquarium, were such as to make it 
highly probable that there was a sound made by the male 
fish which was heard by the females. 

Of the percoid which I have called the " mud sun- 
fish " there is no doubt. Not only in the muddy brooks 
where it is mostly found, but also when confined in an 
aquarium, this fish will utter at times a deep grunting 
sound that can not be mistaken. That it is voluntary, 
too, is evident from the quick, nervous movement of the 
whole body, and the wide distention of the gill-covers that 
accompanies the act. These sounds, and those made by 
the cat-fish, first called my attention to the subject of 
voluntary production of sound or " voice " in fishes. Like 
the spineless perch, this sunfish is, I think, strictly noc- 
turnal in its habits, and, from aquarial observations, I am 
led to believe that it chooses a mate, and accompanies 
her to the nest for ovipositing only at night. 

Of that interesting fish, the landlocked gizzard-shad, 
my observations have led to the detection of a very audi- 
ble whirring sound, not unlike the deeper notes of a 
coarse string of an seolian harp. Others of the herring 
tribe, and particularly our shad, have likewise the power 
of emitting sounds that are distinctly audible, and vary 



TRACES OF VOICES m FISHES. 441 

but little from that described as uttered by the gizzard- 
shad. Those who may have noticed the vibrating noise 
made by the wind passing by a number of telegraph 
wires, will have heard a sound nearly identical. I judge 
that both sexes utter this sound in concert ; but it may 
be that during the early spring the sexes separate, to come 
together again some time later when spawning com- 
mences, and, in such a case, that only the males " sing." 
This, however, is scarcely probable in the case of a non- 
migratory, land-locked species. 

The mullet or chub-sucker is another example of those 
dull-colored, nocturnal fishes that frequent streams with 
muddy beds thickly overgrown with water-plants, and 
which have the power of audibly forcing air from their 
bodies. In April, with a noticeable deepening of their 
coloration, there is increased activity in every movement, 
and, wholly unlike their actions by day, at night they 
swim quite near the surface, and utter a single prolonged 
note, accompanied by a discharge of air-bubbles. They 
appear to project their jaws just above the water, and 
force the air from beneath their gill-covers immediately 
below the surface, as there are two parallel streams of 
bubbles. "When seen in the moonlight, these bubbles 
appear like minute silver beads. Swimming in this way, 
the mullet will often proceed a hundred yards, uttering 
their peculiar " call n four or five times while passing 
over that distance. 

In the lamprey we have a semi-nocturnal species that 
I have had but few opportunities of observing closely, as 
it frequents rapidly-running water, and spends much the 
greater portion of its time under flat stones. On two 
occasions I have watched them, when mated, and thought 
that they uttered a peculiar sound, quite unlike any other 
" fish-note " I had heard ; but it was unaccompanied, so 



442 RAMBLES ABOUT. HOME. 

far as I could determine, by a chain of air-bubbles rising 
to the surface, as is always seen to accompany the sound 
uttered by the chub-sucker or cat-fish. This same noise, 
or one very similar, was made by them when captured 
and taken from the water, and in both instances may 
have been involuntary. From their peculiar anatomy 
they are an exceedingly interesting species with reference 
to the subject of voice ; and I regret that my experience 
when keeping them in an aquarium did not confirm my 
suspicions when studying them in their proper habitat. 
When my lampreys were in an aquarium, I occasionally 
heard a prolonged buzzing sound that had many charac- 
teristics of what I have considered voice in other species, 
but it was too monotonous and protracted to be consid- 
ered a voluntarily produced sound or vocal effort. If 
the more voice-like sounds heard, as mentioned, are char- 
acteristic of their breeding season, then it probably is 
strictly a " love-call," and certainly, when mated, these 
fishes are very amorous. 

In all the instances so far mentioned, of voluntarily 
expressed sounds or utterances of fishes, they have been 
referred to in connection with their ordinary breeding 
habits ; not that they are never heard at other times, but 
because these "calls" or "songs," or whatever they 
should be considered, are a marked feature of that sea- 
son. In our common eel we have an instance of a fish 
possessing unmistakable evidences of voice, yet which 
may be said to have no breeding season, at least when 
found far inland. Without inquiring into the particulars 
of the recently ascertained breeding habits of the eel, it 
is sufficient here to say that, in countless thousands, they 
pass from the sea up our rivers, through the most insignifi- 
cant inland brooks and often into isolated ponds. From 
these ponds they seldom wander, although not necessa- 



TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 443 

rily prisoners, even if direct water connection is broken. 
In these ponds they grow to a large size and live to a 
great age ; yet summer after summer passes without any 
indication of their breeding. No species of fresh- water 
fish is more strictly nocturnal in its habits, and none are 
so easily studied, inasmuch as at night they are not only 
very active, but keep continually near the surface. In 
the matter of voice, eels utter a more distinctly musical 
sound than any other of the fish I have mentioned. It 
is a single note, frequently repeated, and has a slight 
metallic resonance. I have heard this sound only at 
night, and never when they are taken from the water by 
day, as when captured by a hook, so that I presume it is 
not involuntary. When a large number of eels are con- 
gregated in a small space, as when feeding on some dead 
animal, I have heard this note very frequently repeated, 
and from the volume of sound 1 judge that large eels 
only utter a note that is distinctly audible- It is well 
known that this fish occasionally leaves the water volun- 
tarily and wanders a considerable distance to other streams 
or ponds ; and when through protracted droughts a pond 
becomes quite dry, while other fishes perish, the eels 
suffer little inconvenience, as, snake-like, they crawl at 
night over a considerable stretch of land, guided by some 
undetermined sense to the nearest water. At such times 
the eel will occasionally utter this same clear note, espe- 
cially if surprised. From what I have been able to de- 
termine concerning these overland journeys, they are 
undertaken only when the grass is well moistened with 
dew, and a surface of any extent devoid of thick vege- 
tation is an effectual barrier to their progress. I would 
add that I have noticed, when "bobbing" for eels, or 
catching them in a manner that inflicts no injury to their 
mouths, that when squirming about the bottom of the 



444 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

boat they not unfrequently utter this same sound, not 
inaptly compared, perhaps, to the faint squeak of a 
mouse. 

I have given one instance, that of the common sun- 
fish, of a fish that is strictly a diurnal species, of bright 
coloration, and that passes through the various phases of 
courtship and nidification without uttering a sound ; and 
on the other hand, more or less in detail, referred to sev- 
eral other fishes that are all of dull coloration, are noc- 
turnal in their habits, and, whether voluntarily or not, 
certainly at times do utter sounds. They can not be 
considered as simply making such a noise as would 
result from certain muscular movements. The action 
that produces the sound, on the contrary, I have been 
led to believe is intentionally performed in order that the 
sound may result, and the fish intends it as a call, which 
is responded to by those hearing it, and for whom it was 
intended. 

When we carefully study the entire ichthyic fauna of 
a given locality, say of a given stream, as I have done in 
this case, there w^ill undoubtedly be found some excep- 
tions to this supposed rule of dissociation of coloration 
and voice ; but these may be less in number than appear 
to us, when we consider how many species are found in 
every stream that are so diminutive that it can not be 
determined to which class they really belong. Thus, 
while many are dull-colored and doubtless possess voice, 
it is too faint for us to hear ; but, from the fact that this 
peculiarity can be determined in some of the larger spe- 
cies, it is not improbable that in earlier geological eras 
fishes generally were of somber tints, and possessed more 
marked vocal powers than at present, and that, in the 
subsequent differentiation of genera and species, color 
was more and more evolved as a generic character, and 






TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 445 

voice became proportionately less a feature of our fishes, 
but was retained in some, and reappears in still stronger 
development in those connecting links between fishes and 
higher vertebrates, culminating in the batrachians, where 
it is perfected by the presence of a larynx. 

Professor J. C. Galton has, in the ' ' Popular Science 
Review " for October, 1874, most scientifically discussed 
this whole subject, and a brief quotation from his able 
paper is a fit ending to my scanty notes on this most in- 
teresting phase of animal life. He writes : " Not only is 
there every reason to believe that the majority of sounds 
produced by fishes are not casual utterances, but are truly 
voluntary, but there is among such as give vent to them 
a most remarkable development of the organs of hearing 
in all essential particulars, for example, in the semicir- 
cular canals, otoliths and nerves, correlative with the 
degree of perfection of the instrument. Further than 
this, as the sounds generally excel in frequency and in- 
tensity at the breeding season, it will not be unreasonable 
to regard them — granting, as we do, that the chirp of the 
cricket and the croak of the frog is each in its way an 
alluring serenade — as nuptial hymns, or, to use language 
ascribed to Plutarch, as i deafening epithalamia.' More 
than this : seeing that the carp, and others of the same 
family, have given unmistakable proofs of their aptitude 
to receive some rudiments of education, and in particular 
to perceive certain sounds, it can yet be possible that the 
moral admonitions of a St. Anthony of Padua — by many 
still regarded as a work of supererogation — may, no less 
than the amorous twang of the vesical zither, after all 
not have fallen upon totally deaf ears." 



APPENDIX, 



list of the mammals, birds, reptiles, batrachians, 
and fishes of mercer county, new jersey. 

Mammals. 

Wild-Cat. Lynx rufus. 

Occasional. At the time of the settlement of this neighborhood 
by European colonists, wild-cats were very abundant, as the refer- 
ences thereto by early writers indicate. A century later they were 
not abundant except at long distances from the settlements. Kalm 
(1749) refers to them as common to the mountainous regions up the 
valley of the Delaware. Keferring to the abundance of deer in 
that region, he remarks : " Among their enemies is the Lynx of this 
country (Nqw Jersey). . . . They climb up the trees, and, when 
the stags pass by, they dart down upon him, get fast hold, bite, and 
suck the blood, and never give over till they have killed it." In 
what is now Sussex County, New Jersey, and Pike County, Penn- 
sylvania, on the opposite side of the river, wild-cats are still to be 
found, but are by no means abundant. 

The domestic cat returns to a feral state much more commonly 
than is supposed, and the offspring of such cats are noticeably 
larger, fiercer, and more active than any tame cats that I have ever 
seen. I am even strongly inclined to believe, but will not be posi- 
tive, that the offspring in the third generation are always of a uni- 
form blue-gray color. 

These domestic cats u run wild," and their offspring are quite as 
arboreal as the true Lynx rufus. 

Weasel. Putorius vulgaris. 

Common. This species is also known as the " little weasel " by 
those who can distinguish it from the following. 



448 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Weasel. Putorius ermineus. 

Common. I have recently learned of several instances where 
weasels have taken up their abodes in the cellars of houses situated 
on the outskirts of towns. While unable to climb as readily as can 
the rat, the weasel will, when once established where rats are abun- 
dant, either destroy them or frighten them away. The same is true 
of them in the country ; and I doubt if the farmer is not profited 
more by the lessening of the numbers of rats and mice than he 
loses, on the other hand, by the destruction of a few chickens in the 
course of a year. 

Mink. Putorius vison. 

Skunk. Mephitis mephitica. 

Otter. Lutra Canadensis. 

In some localities, even though thickly settled, otters seem to be 
increasing in numbers. During the summer the dense vegetation 
affords them sufficient cover, and, being exceedingly cunning, they 
are able to baffle pursuers, whether men or dogs. In the winter, 
however, the odds appear to be against them, and quite a number 
are reported as trapped or shot during this time of year. 

Raccoon. Procyon lotor. 

This animal is still found in the more unsettled parts of the 
county, but can not be said to be anywhere abundant. It is noc- 
turnal in habit, and cunning enough to keep away from dogs ; and 
so often lives for months near a farm-house without its presence 
being suspected. 

Little Brown Bat. Vespertilio subulatus. 

Silvery Bat. Vespertilio noctivagans. 

Carolina Bat. Vespertilio fusous. 

Little Red Bat. Atalapha Novceboracensis. 

The last of this series of bats is by far the most abundant, and, 
unlike the others, is less sensitive to changes of weather. It is the 
latest to disappear on the approach of winter ; often flies at noon- 
day, in midwinter, if the day is warm and not too bright ; and the 
earliest to appear in spring. 

Mole. Scalqps aquations. 

My observations of this animal lead me to believe that the specific 



APPENDIX. 4±9 

Dame of "aquaticus" is essentially inappropriate. With us, the 
animal is confined to the highest and driest of our upland fields, and 
appears to have a decided aversion even to damp soils. 

Hairy-tailed Mole. Scajpanus Brevieri. 

This species is far less common than the preceding, and of late 
years I have seen no specimens of it. 

Star-nosed Mole. Condylura cristata. 

This curious animal is essentially an aquatic species, as observed 
by me. It frequents only the low, wet meadows, in which it bur- 
rows as extensively as the scalops does in the upland. I have occa- 
sionally found openings to its burrows beneath the surface of the 
water, and know, from recent observation, that the animal is an 
excellent swimmer. 

I am convinced that this species hibernates, and often the mead- 
ows in which its winter nests are situated are covered with water 
for from two to four days at a time. Such periods of submergence 
do not appear to affect the hibernating moles in any way ; but a sum- 
mer freshet of like duration invariably proves fatal to great numbers 
of them. 

Shrew. Blarina hrevicauda. 

The statement made in the body of the book, that I have never 
found a shrew near home, no longer holds good; but I let it stand, 
for the fact that I have recently seen and captured a specimen is all 
that I can say. On the 10th of August, 1883, my son brought me a 
dead shrew which he had found, and on the 30th of September fol- 
lowing, while listening to the rose-brea3ted grosbeaks that were 
singing in the woods near by, I saw a small mammal leap by me. 
Its movements were not like those of a mouse, and I gave chase. 
It endeavored to hide in the heaps of loose dead leaves, but was 
easily captured. It proved to be a short-tailed shrew, and is the 
only living specimen I have ever seen. 

Flying Squirrel. Sciuropterus volucella. 

I have recently had my attention called to the small size of the 
flying squirrels found here, as compared with the dimensions given 
by Audubon and Bachman, Godman, and others. It would certainly 
seem as if they had shrunken considerably during the past fifty 
years. Is this due to the fact that food is less abundant and the en- 
vironment less favorable ? 



450 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Gray Squirrel. Sciurus Carolinensis. 

It is but very seldom that a black squirrel is now seen in this 
neighborhood, but formerly they were very common. Family papers 
in my possession, dating back a century and a half ago, refer to 
"damages to crops caused by troops of great black squirrels." 

Red Squirrel. Sciurus Hudsonius. 

The general destruction of heavy growths of timber has caused 
this destructive squirrel to become comparatively scarce. They are 
often more abundant, however, than we suppose. This fact was 
forcibly brought to my attention during the past summer, when a 
pair of them were found nesting in a hollow locust-tree within ten 
steps of my front door. These squirrels had evidently been several 
weeks in this tree, yet no one had seen them. Subsequent observa- 
tions revealed the fact that this particular pair were essentially cre- 
puscular in their habits, and even in the gloaming, when they 
chanced to go abroad, their movements were exceedingly stealthy 
until they felt that they were well out of sight and hearing. Did 
not these squirrels realize the danger of living so near an occupied 
house, and act with unusual caution in consequence of such fear? I 
think so. 

Chipmunk. Tamias striatus. 

This common mammal appears to be increasing in numbers. 

Woodchuck. Arctomys monax. 

Although so common in most localities, few are found in Mercer 
County. 

Jumping Mouse. Zapus Hudsonius. 

While probably the fact that this species is strictly nocturnal 
makes it appear less abundant than it really is, still it is certainly 
nowhere to be found in great numbers. I think no one will be 
likely to find more than one or two pairs during a summer, although 
Dr. Godman remarks that " it breeds very fast, and may occasion- 
ally become injurious to the farmer." 

White-footed Mouse. Hesperomys leucopus. 

Albinism is quite common with this species, both partial and 
complete. 

Meadow Mouse. Arvicola riparius. 

That there are two or three species of so-called mice, other than 



- 



APPENDIX. 451 

the above, found in this neighborhood, is highly probable ; but, as 
stated in the body of the work, I have not been able to identify 
them. 

Muskrat. Fiber zibethicus. 

Kalm mentions the well-known habit of the muskrat, of eating 
the ordinary river mussels (unios), and intimates their depending 
largely upon them for food. Godman does not refer to this, but 
states that their food is wholly vegetable matter ; adding, " It has 
been imagined that this animal feeds also upon fish ... an 
opinion which the structure of the teeth, stomach, and intestines 
sufficiently contradict." De Kay, on the other hand, says, " It is 
also extremely fond of the fresh-water mussel (unid), heaps of 
which, in a gnawed and comminuted state, may be found near their 
retreats. As a matter of fact, the muskrat not only consumes quan- 
tities of mussels, but other animal matter whenever it can be ob- 
tained. I have knowledge of their seizing ducklings and dragging 
them to their burrows, and have seen them in a mill-pond quarrel- 
ing over the remains of a dog that had been drowned." 

Rabbit. Zepus sylvaticus. 

Of the few mammals of considerable size still to be found in 
long-settled neighborhoods, the rabbits seem best to have withstood 
the encroachments of man upon their haunts and the persecution 
of a host of enemies. They are probably as abundant as a century 
ago, benefiting more by the destruction of their natural enemies, 
than suffering from the persecution of man and dogs. 

Opossum. Didelphis Virginiana. 

During the past three or four years these animals have increased 
quite rapidly in numbers, and become less wary, or at least frequent 
localities that are less well adapted to shield them by day than are 
their usual woodland haunts. As an article of food they are highly 
prized by many ; but their merits as such seem to me largely over- 
stated. While not disposed to regularly hibernate, they can sleep for 
weeks without food. 

Birds. 

Dr. William P. Turnbull, in preparing his classical 
" Birds of East Pennsylvania and New Jersey," * remarks 

* " The Birds of East Pennsylvania and New Jersey." By William P. 
Turnbull, LL. D. Glasgow : Printed for private circulation. 1869, 4to. 



452 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

in his preface : " From the geographical position of the 
district it is particularly favorable for observation, being 
the resort, at some period of the year, of a large proportion 
of the birds of this continent; and, from the fact of its 
being the temporary resting-place of most of the migratory 
birds, there is probably no district of the same extent in 
this country that is frequented by such a number of species. 
A considerable number of our summer visitants from the 
Gulf States and Mexico appear to make it their northern 
limit, while other flocks remain only a short period in spring, 
and migrate still further north, penetrating as far as British 
America to breed ; and these again arrive in autumn on 
their return journey to their winter retreats. It may like- 
wise be noted that the district is the southern limit of many 
species which breed at Hudson's Bay and the fur countries, 
and pass the winter on the Delaware and Chesapeake, thus 
forming a line of separation, so to speak, for the migratory 
flights of many interesting birds coming from opposite di- 
rections. 

" On consulting the list, however, it will be remarked 
that the proportion of what may be considered resident 
birds is small. This fact seems to have attracted observa- 
tion as far back as the time of Dr. Benjamin S. Barton, 
who published a work, entitled ' Fragments of Natural 
History,' about seventy years ago, in which it is stated 
that, in the district now spoken of, very few species remain 
all the year, and that even of these there appeared to have 
been a partial migration in severe winters ; such birds, 
especially, as lived on insects and small fruits being com- 
pelled to retire southward — a fact still noticeable at the pres- 
ent day — many species that usually migrate remaining in 
mild and open winters. Closer observation of late years, 
however, has enabled ornithologists to affirm with certainty 
that, of so-called migratory birds, a greater number pass 
the winter with us than has been hitherto supposed." 

Elsewhere in his preface the author further remarks : 



APPENDIX. 453 

" The diffusion of well-authenticated information regard- 
ing the distribution of American birds is yet a matter for 
future observation. There have been, no doubt, many im- 
portant contributions on this subject, of late years, yet the 
field is so extensive that many years must elapse before we 
can lay claim to a thorough knowledge of many important 
particulars, which patient research and well-timed energy 
alone can solve. The author of the present little work, 
while claiming for it the merit of careful observation, ex- 
tending over a period of several years, at the same time 
believes the plan of the catalogue to be capable of attaining 
more useful results if enlarged in proportion to the nature 
of the districts investigated. It is, therefore, to be hoped 
that accurate observers may undertake similar records, by 
means of which the next great work on the ornithology of 
our country may contain a better collection of facts, repre- 
senting the phenomena of the remoter districts, than has 
yet been obtained." 

Believing that I can best serve the purposes of working 
ornithologists by closely following the list given by Mr. 
Turnbull in his work, from which I have already so exten- 
sively quoted, I have in the following pages practically 
reproduced that list, with annotations based upon the ob- 
servations of the sixteen years which have elapsed since 
Dr. Turnbull wrote his work. My list of birds, that may 
be said to constitute the ornithic fauna of Mercer County, 
numbers two hundred and seventeen species ; the list given 
by Dr. Turnbull numbers three hundred and forty-two 
species, and is given as the complete enumeration of the 
birds of an area many hundred times as large as that re- 
ferred to as the field of my own observations. Of the three 
hundred and forty-two species given by Dr. Turnbull, fifty- 
nine are under the heading of " Stragglers or Irregular Vis- 
itants " ; which leaves us but two hundred and eighty-three 
species as characteristic of the fauna, or properly belonging 
to it. Deducting eleven species from my list of the birds 



454 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

of Mercer County, New Jersey, there remains a difference 
only of seventy-seven species between those observed by 
Dr. Turnbull in "that part of Pennsylvania eastward of 
the Alleghany Mountains, and of New Jersey, including 
the coast-line, which extends from Sandy Hook to Cape 
May," and those that I have seen in a very limited portion 
of the valley of the Delaware. 

Wood- Thrush. Turdus mustelinus. 

Strictly migratory, and sensitive to frost. Arrives early in April, 
if the weather is warm, and remains until November. It is more 
irregular than any other of our thrushes. 

Hermit-Thrush. Turdus pallasii. 

" Not uncommon. It arrives in April, and again late in October 
on its way south, when it is more abundant along the sea-coast. . . . 
A few have been observed during winter when that season has been 
open and mild " (Turnbull). They also remain, in scanty numbers, 
during summer, and breed. 

Olive-backed Thrush. Turdus Swainsonii. 

" Eare. It arrives in the end of April. A few also of this spe- 
cies have been seen in winter " (Turnbull). I have not found this 
thrush to be at all " rare," but very irregular in its appearance. 

Wilson's Thrush. Turdus fuscescens. 

Eesident, or but partly migratory. It is not unusual to see them 
during the winter, if the weather is mild. At such times they seek 
shelter from the wind, and congregate largely on wooded slopes 
having a southern exposure. 

Robin. Turdus migratorius. 

This familiar species is wandering, rather than migratory. They 
are as abundant in January as in June ; indeed, often much more so. 

Brown Thrush. Harjporhynchus rufus. 

Migratory. Often appears as early as March 1st. " A few re- 
main during mild winters " (Turnbull). 

Mocking-Bird. Mimus polyglottus. 

Kare. A pair of these birds have for two years past nested in 



APPENDIX. 455 

the yard of a neighbor. " It appears to have been plentiful in for- 
mer years, and, according to Bartram and Dr. Barton, even re- 
mained all the winter near Philadelphia " (Turnbull). 

Catbird. Galeoscoptes Carolinensis. 

Abundant everywhere. I think it is evident that a change is 
slowly coming over their migratory habits. They certainly arrive 
earlier and stay later than the dates mentioned by Wilson, Audubon, 
or Nuttall. Single birds have been seen during the winter. 

Bluebird. Sialia sialis. 

Whatever may have been the habit of this species, it is now, in 
no sense, migratory. 

Golden-crowned Knight. Regulus satrwpa. 

Not uncommon. Seen both in spring and autumn usually ; but 
also in winter, though less frequently. That they breed in Northern 
New Jersey is unquestionable. 

Ruby-crowned Wren. Regulus calendula. 

More abundant than the preceding, and is identical in all its 
habits. The two are frequently associated, especially in mid-winter, 
when a flock of a dozen or twenty is occasionally met with. 

Blue-gray Gnat-catcher. Polioptila ccerulea. 

I have seldom met with this species, which can scarcely be rec- 
ognized by a description of its voice, quoted by Jordan as " like 
a mouse with the toothache." It is said, on the contrary, to be 
really a fine singer. Dr. Turnbull does not give this species in Ms 
list. 

Tufted Tit. Zophqphanes hieolor. 

Abundant. " Especially abundant in summer " (Turnbull). My 
observations have led me to conclude it was more common in au- 
tumn and winter than in summer. 

Black-capped Tit. Parus atricapillus. 

Very abundant. During the summer they are more retiring in 
their habits and stay more closely in heavily-timbered areas. In 
winter they at times almost outnumber the snow-birds. 

White-bellied ^Nut-Hatch. Sitta Carolinensis. 

Common. While to be found, on careful search, at any time of 
the year, they are certainly more abundant during the winter. 



456 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Red-bellied Nut-Hatch. Sitta Canadensis. 

11 Rather rare from October to April " (Turnbull). I have 
found it as late as June, and believe the species to be resident to a 
limited extent. 

Tree-Creeper. Certhia familiar is. 

" Abundant, but more so in winter than at other times of the 
year. I can detect no difference between it and that of Europe ; it 
has the same shrill but feeble note, and its habits are identical " 
(Turnbull). 

Carolina Wren. Thryothorus Ludovicianus. 

Within the past few years this magnificent songster has become 
quite abundant, and is strictly resident. According to Dr. Turn- 
bull, at the time he wrote it was " rather rare. It appears early in 
May on the borders of the Delaware. Mr. John Cassin informed 
me that he had occasionally seen this bird on the Wissahickon in 
winter." 

Bewick's Wren. Thryothorus Bewickii. 

Some years ago a few pairs of these birds were seen in my 
neighborhood; but they have been replaced by the Carolina wrens, 
that appear to have driven the others away. 

House-Wren. Troglodytes cedon. 

Abundant. Less sensitive to cold than formerly— say, fifty years 
ago. They arrive earlier and depart later than in the time of Audu- 
bon and Wilson. I have seen them as early as April 5th. 

Winter-Wren. Troglodytes hyemalis. 

Common, but not resident probably. The similarity in appear- 
ance to the preceding, and coming from the north at about the time 
the house- wrens pass southward, has given the impression to many 
that the latter are not migratory. 

Short-billed Marsh- Wren. Cistothorus stellaris. 

" Kather rare from April to September " (Turnbull). I believe 
that more of these birds are to be found than is commonly sup- 
posed. I have found colonies of them in certain limited tracts of 
reedy meadows. 

Long-billed Marsh-Wren. Cistothorus palustris. 
Abundant in all marshy or tide- water meadows. 



1 



APPENDIX. 457 

Horned Lark. Eremophila cornuta. 

"Plentiful; appearing late in October and generally leaving in 
March, but some seasons it remains until April " (Turnbull.) If a 
cold northeaster occurs in September it often brings these birds, 
which, again, have been seen as late as May 10th. 

Titlark. Anthus Ludovicianus. 

" Common. It arrives from the north in October, and departs 
in April, but is more frequent in the autumn and spring migra- 
tions " (Turnbull). 

Creeping Warbler. Mniotilta varia. 
Abundant from April to October. 

Blue Yellow-backed Warbler. Panda Americana. 
Common from April to October. 

"Worm-eating Warbler. Helmintherus vermivorus. 

" Rather rare ; arriving in the middle of May n (Turnbull). 
During the past ten years this has been one of our most abundant 
species, and one that reaches us as early as the middle of April. 

Blue-winged Yellow Warbler. Helminthqphaga jpinus. 
Somewhat rare, but variable in this respect. 

Nashville Warbler. Helminthophaga rujicapitta. 

Common. Often very abundant during the autumnal migration 
of the warblers generally. 

Tennessee Warbler. Helminthophaga peregrina. 

Not uncommon. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as more common in 
autumn than in spring. 

Golden-winged Warbler. Helminthojphaga chrysoptera. 
Quite rare, except in certain summers when warblers of every 
species are unusually abundant. 

Cape May Warbler. Perissoglossa tigrina. 

" Very rare ; it arrives early in May, and again it visits us on its 
way- south about the 10th of October n (Turnbull). 

Summer Warbler. Dendrceca cestiva. 

Abundant. 

20 



458 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Black-throated Blue Warbler. Dendrceca ccerulescens. 
Abundant. " A few remain to breed " (Turnbull). 

Myrtle-Bird. Dendrceca coronata. 

Abundant. Yearly becoming more abundant during the winter. 
Even the severe January of 1884 did not drive them away. Several 
specimens were seen that month. 

Black and Yellow Warbler. Dendrceca maculosa. 

" One of our most beautiful warblers, and rather frequent ; com- 
ing early in May, and again in September " (Turnbull). 

Blue Warbler. Dendrceca ccerulea. 

"Rare. From May to end of August. The Blue Mountain 
warbler of Wilson is the young of this species " (Turnbull). 

Chestnut-sided Warbler. Dendrceca Pennsylvania. 

" Not uncommon. Arriving early in May. A few remain to 
breed " (Turnbull). 

Black-poll Warbler. Dendrceca striata. 
Common in spring and autumn. 

Blackburnian Warbler. Dendrceca Blackburnia. 
Common, and tarries to breed. 

Bay-breasted Warbler. Dendrceca castanea. 

"Rather rare, appearing late in April, and again in October. 
The young bird of this species is the autumnal warbler of Wilson " 
(Turnbull;. 

Yellow-throated Warbler. Dendrceca dominica. 

Rare. I have seen but few specimens. This species is not in 
Dr. Turnbull's list. 

Prairie Warbler. Dendrceca discolor. 

Not uncommon. Upland fields, overgrown with rag- weed, are 
favorite localities. 

Black-throated Green Warbler. Dendrceca virens. 

" Rather frequent, arriving early in May and departing in Octo- 
ber. It is more plentiful in the spring and autumn migrations " 
(Turnbull). 



APPENDIX. 459 

Pine-creeping Warbler. Dendroeea jpinus. 

M This species is rather rare in spring, but plentiful in autumn. 
Arriving early in April, and again in October. Many remain duriug 
summer " (Turnbull). 

This is one of the few species of warblers that lingers in Central 
New Jersey long after the severe frosts have set in. I have seen 
them as late as December 3d. 

Yellow Red-poll Warbler. Dendroeea palmarum. 
Abundant, but do not remain to breed. 

Golden-crowned Thrush. Siurus auricapillus. 
Yery common in moist ground thick with underbrush. 

Water-Wagtail. Siurus ncevius. 

Not as common as the preceding, but during no summer have 
I found it rare. 

Water-Thrush. Siurus motacilla. 

Not uncommon, but probably the least abundant of the three 
species of this genus. 

Connecticut Warbler. Oporornis agilis. 

" Rather rare. This species is very seldom met with in spring, 
but is, however, more frequent in autumn, appearing late in Au- 
gust" (Turnbull). 

During the spring of 1882 and of 1883, I saw many specimens of 
these birds during the month of May. 

Kentucky Warbler. Oporomis formosus. 

" A southern species, and rather scarce. It arrives late in 
April" (Turnbull). 

As has frequently happened during the past decade, during cer- 
tain summers, warblers of all kinds would be phenomenally abun- 
dant. During such I have seen many of this species. 

Maryland Yellow-Throat. Geothlyjpis trichas. 

A specimen of this common warbler was seen on the 18th of 
March, 1883. This is unusually early for this species, which, how- 
ever, usually anticipates the arrival, in spring, of the warblers gener- 
ally, by two or three weeks. The specimen here mentioned was 
very active, kept much to the tops of the taller trees, and sang 
incessantly. 



460 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Mourning Warbler. Geothlypis Philadelphia. 

I have seen but the one specimen of this warbler, to recognize 
it. A friend, who has carefully studied our warblers, reports it as 
" not uncommon in April and May." 

Yellow-breasted Chat. Icteria virens. 
Very abundant as a summer resident. 

Hooded Warbler. Myiodioctes rnitratus. 

Very variable as to numbers. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as 
" rather rare." 

Green Fly-catcher. Myiodioctes pusillus. 

"This bird appears early in May, and again in October, and is 
rather abundant " (Turnbull). 

My impression is that they are also, to a certain extent, summer 
residents, and presumably breed here. 

Canada Fly-catcher. Myiodioctes Canadensis. 

" Frequent from the end of April to October " (Turnbull). 

Eedstart. Setophaga ruticilla. 
Abundant. A summer resident. 

Scarlet Tanager. Pyranga rubra. 
Abundant. A summer resident. 

Summer Eedbird. Pyranga mtiva. 

Eare. Formerly more abundant than the preceding. 

Barn-Swallow. Hirundo horreorum. 
Common. March to September 30th. 

White-bellied Swallow. Tachycineta licolor. 
Common. Late in March to September 15th. 

Cliff-Swallow. Petrochelidon lunifrons. 

Common in colonies, which return year after year to the same 
nesting-places. April to September, both inclusive. 

Bank-Swallow. Cotyle riparia. 

Common. Early spring until late in October. 



APPENDIX. 461 

Rough-winged Swallow. Stelgidopteryx serripennis. 

This is the least abundant of our swallows, but is never wanting 
altogether, I believe. 

Purple Martin. Progne subis. 

Common, where boxes for their accommodation are provided. 

Cedar-Bird. Ampelis cedrorum. 

" Abundant, but less frequent in winter than at other seasons " 
(Turnbull). My observations are the reverse. I certainly have 
seen much larger flocks and more of them in winter. During the 
severe January of 1884 they were exceedingly abundant. 

Wax- Wing. Arrvpelis garrulics. 

" Has been occasionally shot near Philadelphia " (Turnbull). I 
have seen two specimens of this northern species, both of which 
were killed near Trenton, New Jersey. 

Red-eyed Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia olivacea. 
Common from May until end of October. 

Philadelphia Greenlet. Vireosylvia Philadelphica. 

" Very rare " (Turnbull). I have met with but two specimens, 
and these were collected twenty years ago ; but as these birds might 
readily be confounded with other greenlets, when simply seen " on 
the wing," it is probable that they are not so excessively rare as is 
generally supposed. 

Warbling Greenlet. Vireosylvia gilva. 
Common from May to October, both inclusive. 

Blue-headed Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia solitaria. 

" Rather rare, arriving in April and departing in October " 
(Turnbull). 

Yellow-throated Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia flavifr oris. 

" Not uncommon from the end of April to September " (Turn- 
bull). I have found the nests of this species in elm and maple 
trees; usually at a considerable elevation ; above rather than below 
the so-called " nest-line." 

White-eyed Yireo. Vireo Novceboracensis. 

Common from March to October, both inclusive. Stragglers 
are occasionally met with in midwinter. 



462 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Butcher-Bird. Collurio borealis. 

"Not uncommon, especially in winter. In March it migrates 
to the north, but many nestle on the mountain -ridges of the Alle- 
ghanies " (Turnbull). 

Loggerhead Shrike. Collurio Ludovicianus. 

This southern species is now found every summer in this neigh- 
borhood. I have seen half a dozen specimens within a year, and know 
of others collected within the past four or five years. This species 
appears to have become comparatively common since the great in- 
crease in the number of English sparrows, now so melancholy a 
feature of our ornithology ; and the spread in the range of this and 
the preceding species of shrike is attributed to the unfortunate 
abundance of the perfidious foreign sparrow. 

Pine Grosbeak. Pinicola enucleator. 

Varies greatly in accordance with the character of the winter. 
Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as " rather rare." 

Purple Finch. Carpodacus purpureus. 

" Not uncommon from September to April, a few remaining 
during summer " (Turnbull). 

Bed Crossbill. Loxia curvirostra. 

A winter visitant ; at times quite abundant. 

White-winged Crossbill. Loxia leucoptera. 

" Eare, but in some winters more plentiful " (Turnbull). I saw 
them, in the summer of 1867, near the Delaware "Water-Gap. 

Linnet. JEgioihus linaria. 

"Not uncommon in severe winters, coming early in November, 
and remaining until April " (Turnbull). I have not found the char- 
acter of the winter to determine the question of their presence or 
absence. I have never known a winter when linnets were not seen. 

Thistle-Bird. Chrysomitris tristis. 

Common. Eesident. More gregarious in winter than at other 
times. 

Snow-Bunting. Plectrophanes nivalis. 

" Of frequent occurrence, and usually appearing after a snow- 
storm. It arrives early in December, and leaves in March " (Turn- 
bull). 






APPENDIX. 463 

Lapland Long-Spur. JPlectrqphanes Lapponicus. 

" Very rare, and found only in severe winters " (Turnbull). My 
observations have determined that siDgle specimens of this bird 
are not unusually found in the flocks of the preceding species. 

Savannah Sparrow. Passerculus Savanna. 
Transitory. Abundant only in spring and autumn. 

Grass-Finch. Pooecetes gramineus. 

Abundant, resident, and the most u domestic " of our birds. In 
the fields in which these birds are hatched they appear to remain 
throughout their lives. They are as abundant in January as in 
June. Dr. Turnbull considered them migratory, and speaks of their 
numbers as " being augmented in summer by flocks arriving early 
in April." 

Yellow- winged Sparrow. Ammodromus passerinus. 

11 Common, arriving late in April, and departing in October " 
(Turnbull). 

Henslow's Bunting. Ammodromus Henslowi. 

Never common. Varies greatly in numbers from year to year. 

Sharp-tailed Finch. Ammodromus caudacutus. 

"Frequent on the salt marshes along the coast" (Turnbull). 
Not uncommon on the inland tide- water meadows of the Delaware 
Eiver. 

White-crowned Sparrow. Zonotrichia leucophrys. 

Never abundant, but still not rare. They appear often as early 
as September, and remain until the spring following is well ad- 
vanced. 

White-throated Sparrow. Zonotrichia albicollis. 

Common from September to May, often inclusive of the latter 
month. 

Tree- Sparrow. Spizella monticola. 

Abundant from October to April, both inclusive. A statement 
made by the writer in 1868 ("Geology of New Jersey"), that this 
species was " resident," was a careless blunder. 

Field-Sparrow. Spizella pusilla. 

11 Common. Comes early in April and leaves in October " (Turn- 
bull). If the weather is pleasant, they remain until December. 



464 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Chippy. Spizella socialis. 

Kesident. Not migratory, as stated by Dr. Turnbull. 

Swamp-Sparrow. Melospiza palustris. 

Abundant in all onr reedy meadows. A sweet songster, with 
notes that are as liquid as the babbling of a brook. 

Song-Sparrow. Melospiza melodia. 

Resident, but to some extent may also be migratory. I can not 
perceive, however, that they are more abundant in summer than in 
winter. 

Lincoln's Finch. Melospiza Lincolni. 
Not abundant. Both migratory and resident. 

Snow-Bird. Junco hyemalis. 

Abundant from October to April, both inclusive. 

Foxie Sparrow. Passerella iliaca. 

Arrive in October usually, and remain until April 1st. They 
appear to be most abundant at the end of winter, when often quite 
large, loose flocks are seen associated with numbers of white- 
throats. 

Black-throated Bunting. Euspiza Americana. 

" Plentiful. Appearing early in May, and leaving in September " 
(Turnbull). 

Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Goniaphea Zudoviciana. 

Since 1880 this species has been increasing in numbers steadily. 
They come early in May, and remain until September 30th. The 
finest song-bird of North America. 

Indigo-Bird. Cyanospiza cyanea. 

Common from May to September, both inclusive ; but so sensi- 
tive to cold storms that a cool August drives them southward. 

Cardinal-Grosbeak. Cardinalis Virginianus. 

Eesident, and more lively and fall of song at Christmas than in 
midsummer. Dr. Turnbull intimates that they are partly migra- 
tory ; but I am inclined to believe this an error. There is, at least, 
no evidence of this in Mercer County. 

Chewink. Pipilo erythrophthalmus. 

Common from early spring until the leaves have fallen. Ac- 



APPENDIX. 465 

cording to Dr. Turnbull, " a few remain during- winter, and may be 
found in well-sheltered localities." 

Bobolink. Dolichonyx oryzivorus. 

Appear early in May or April, if the weather is mild, and 
spread over the country as " bobolinks." In August they gather 
into large flocks, and follow the river valleys southward as "reed- 
birds " on the Delaware, and " rice-birds" in the Southern States. 

Cow-Bird. Molothrus pecoris. 

Common from March 15th to November 1st, and sometimes 
seen later in the year. 

Bed-winged Blackbird. Agelaius phozniceus. 

Most abundant from February until November, but to be found 
even during midwinter. 

Meadow-Lark. Sturnella magna. 
Eesident. Abundant. 

Baltimore Oriole. Icterus Baltimore. 

Yery abundant. April 15th to October 1st are the dates of the 
arrival and disappearance of most of them ; but a few stragglers are 
seen every year, both earlier and later than the dates given. 

Orchard Oriole. Icterus spurius. 

Equally common with the above. Arrives and departs at about 
the same time of year. 

Busty Grackle. Scolecophegus ferrugineus. - 

More abundant during some years than others, but at no time 
as common as the following. 

Crow Blackbird. Quiscalus purpureus. ° 
Common. Both resident and migratory. 

Baven. Corvus corax. 

Only occasionally seen " flying over." 

Crow. Corvus Americanus. 
Common. Eesident. 

Fish-Crow. Corvus ossifragus. 

Rare. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as migratory, stating that " it 
arrives early in April." 



466 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Blue Jay. Cyanurus cristatus. 

Common. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as " less numerous in win- 
ter than at other seasons." I have not found this, but the contrary 
to be true. 

Forked-tailed Fly-catcher. Milvulus forftcatus. 

u Bonaparte procured a specimen of this bird near Bridgeton, 
New Jersey ; another was shot by Audubon at Camden, near Phila- 
delphia, in June, 1832 " (Turnbull). 

A specimen was collected in April, 1872, near Trenton, New 
Jersey, and presented by the writer to the Academy of Science, at 
Salem, Massachusetts. 

King-Bird. Tyr annus Carolinensis. 
Common. May to September, both inclusive. 

Great-crested Fly-catcher. Myiarchus crinitus. 
Common. May to September, both inclusive. 

Pee wee. Sayornis fuscus. 

Common. March to October, both inclusive. 

Wood Peewee. Contopus virens. 

Abundant. April to October, both inclusive. 

Olive-sided Fly-catcher. Contopus horealis. 

" Yery rare. It is generally seen early in May on its way north, 
and returns in September " (Turnbull). 

Traill's Fly-catcher. Empidonax Traillii. 

"Rare, but some seasons it is not uncommon in the spring, ar- 
riving about the middle of May " (Turnbull). 

I am positive that it occasionally remains during the summer 
and breeds. 

Green-crested Fly-catcher. Empidonax Acadicus. 

" Frequent from the beginning of May to the middle of Septem- 
ber. It is generally found in the most secluded parts of woods " 
(Turnbull). 

Least Fly-catcher. Empidonax minimus. 

" Rather rare, arriving in April on its northern migration, and 
returning early in September. A few remain to breed" (Turn- 
bull). 



APPENDIX. 467 

Yellow-bellied Fly-catcher. Empidonax.flaviventris. 

" Rare. It arrives in the middle of April, on its way north. 
Dr. Slack found it breeding near Trenton " (Turnbull). 

Whip-poor-will. Antrostomus vociferus. 
Common. May to August, both inclusive. 

Night-Hawk. Chordeiles Virginianus. 
Common. April to September, both inclusive. 

Chimney-Swallow. Chcetura pelagica. 
Common. April to September, both inclusive. 

Humming-Bird. Trochilus colubris. 

Common. Arrives as soon as the weather has become settled 
and fairly warm, and remains until frost, or until about the middle 
of October. 

Kingfisher. Ceryle alcyon. 

Both resident and migratory. Abundant. 

Yellow-billed Cuckoo. Coccygus Americanus. 

Common. Arrives early in spring and remains until October 1st. 

Black-billed Cuckoo. Coccygus erythrophthalmus. 

Not as common as the preceding. " It frequents the borders of 
small streams n (Turnbull). 

Hairy Woodpecker. Picus villosus. 
Common. Eesident. 

Downy Woodpecker. Picus pubescens. 
Common. Eesident. 

Yellow-bellied Woodpecker. Sphyrapicus varius. 
Common. Eesident and partly migratory. 

Red-bellied Woodpecker. Centurus Carolinus. 
Common. Partly migratory. 

Ued-headed Woodpecker. Melanerpes erythrocephalus. 
Common. Apparently migratory. 

Flicker. Colaptes auratus. 
Common. Irregularly migratory. 



468 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Barn-Owl. Strix pratincola. 

" Not rare, and more frequent in spring and autumn " (Turn- 
bull). 

Cat-Owl. Otus Wilsonianus. 

Not abundant of late ; but twenty or more years ago were com- 
mon in the swampy woodlands. ^ 

Marsh-Owl. Otus brachyotus. 

Common. Dr. Turnbull refers to it as migratory, " arriving in 
November, and departing in April." This is surely an error. I 
have frequently found it breeding in hollow trees, near Trenton, 
New Jersey. 

Barred Owl. Syrnium nebulosum. 
Eare. Usually seen in autumn and winter. 

Saw-whet Owl. JYyctale Acadica. 

Comparatively abundant since 1877. Resident, and breeds an- 
nually in swampy lands near Trenton, New Jersey. 

Screech-Owl. Scops asio. 
Common. Resident. 

Great Horned Owl. Bubo Virginianus. 

Rare. Occasionally a " family n of them are met with in winter. 

Snowy Owl. Nyctea scandiaca. 

Rare. A winter visitant. More common during some winters 
than others. 

Hawk-Owl. Surnia ulula. 

Rare. Probably our rarest winter visitant. "Is occasionally 
found in severe winters. One was shot at Haddington, near Phila- 
delphia, in 1866 " (Turnbull). 

Duck-Hawk. Falco communis. 

Very rare. "During autumn and winter it frequents the 
marshes along the sea-coast and the courses of rivers, preying upon 
wild-fowl " (Turnbull). 

Pigeon-Hawk. Falco columbarius. 

Not common. Migratory; but occasionally breeds in New 
Jersey. 



APPENDIX. 469 

Sparrow-Hawk. Falco sparverius. 

Abundant. Resident. 

Fish-Hawk. Pandion halicetus. 
Abundant. Migratory. 

Swallow-tailed Hawk. Nauclerusfurcatus. 

I saw a specimen of this hawk in November, 1883. " Has been 
seen once or twice in Pennsylvania. Mr. John Krider shot one near 
Philadelphia in 1857 " (TurnbuU). 

Mississippi Kite. Ictinia subcoerulea. 

Specimens of this hawk have been killed in Mercer Couuty 
during the past ten years. It is, however, exceedingly rare. 

Marsh-Hawk. Circus Hudsonius. 

Common during the winter, but less so during the rest of the 
year. 

Goshawk. Astur atricwpillus. 
Rare, and seen during the winter only. 

Sharp-shinned Hawk. Aceipiter fuscus. 
Abundant. Resident. 

Cooper's Hawk. Accijpiter Coqperi. 
Abundant. Resident. 

Hen-Hawk. Buteo lorealis. 

Common. " Much more frequent in autumn and winter ; haunt- 
ing meadows and cultivated districts " (TurnbuU). 

Winter-Falcon. Buteo lineatus. 
Not as abundant as the preceding. 

Broad-winged Hawk. Buteo Pennsylvanicns. 

"Rare. This hawk is also more frequently seen in winter." 

Kough-legged Buzzard. Archibuteo lagojpus. 

Common ; particularly during the winter. Dr. TurnbuU refers 
to this bird, when it has acquired the melanistic plumage, as a dis- 
tinct species — Archibuteo Sancti Johannis. The plumage varies 
from dirty white to black. 



470 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Ring-tailed Eagle. Aquila chryscetus. 

Rare. A single specimen was seen by the writer several times 
during the winter of 1883-'84. 

Bald Eagle. Halietus leucocephalus. 

Occasionally specimens are seen, particularly during the autumn 
and winter ; but these birds are yearly becoming more scarce. 

Turkey-Buzzard. Cathartes aura. 
Common. Irregularly migratory. 

Wild Pigeon. JEctopistes migratoria. 
No longer abundant in this neighborhood. 

Turtle-Dove. Zencedura Carolinensis. 

Common. Migratory. Dr. Turnbull states that " many remain 
during the winter.' 7 

Quail. Ortyx Virginianus. 
Common. Kesident. 

Ruffed Grouse. Bouasa wribellus. 
Formerly abundant, but now quite rare. 

Black-bellied Plover. Squatarola Helvetica. 

" It appears late in April, and again in September, a few remain- 
ing on the uplands to breed " (Turnbull). 

This species, associated with golden plovers, are most frequently 
seen in August and September, in Mercer County; sometimes 
flocks of several hundred being found. They never tarry long, but 
seem to be migrating. 

Golden Plover. Charadrius fulvus. 

"Common, appearing in the end of April, and again early in 
September " (Turnbull). 

Killdeer Plover. JEgialitis vociferus. 

Common as a visitor, but few now remain to breed. Less than 
half a century ago they were a familiar bird in our upland fields, 
and bred in newly plowed fields. Now they are found only in 
spring and autumn, along our larger creeks and the river-shore. 
" Especially abundant along the sea-shore in winter " (Turnbull). 



APPENDIX. 471 

"Wilson's Plover. ^Egialitis Wilsonins. 

" Rather rare. Arrives early in May w (Turnbull). Associated 
with other small " beach birds," this plover is occasionally fonnd in 
considerable numbers along the shores of the Delaware River, above 
the reach of tide- water. 

Ring-necked Plover. jEgialitis semipahnatus. 

Properly a " shore bird, 1 ' but, like the preceding, is found along 
the mud-flats of the Delaware River, particularly in August. 

Piping Plover. ^Egialitis melodus. 

Like the above, this is properly a bird of the sea-coast, that fre- 
quently wanders up our river- valleys far beyond the limits of salt 
water. They are often exceedingly abundant after storms, espe- 
cially when an easterly wind has prevailed. 

Red Plialarope. Pkalaropus fulicarius. 

"A few examples of this species are obtained every season" 
(Turnbull). I have seen a specimen, in the flesh, killed on the river 
at Trenton. 

Woodcock. Philohela minor. 

Common. Resident to a limited extent. Usually migrate, ap- 
pearing about March 1st. 

Snipe. Gallinago Wilsonii. 

Common. Migratory. A few remain, however, during the 
winter. Have been known to breed in Mercer County, New Jersey. 

Peep. Ereunetes piisillus. 

Irregularly abundant, in spring and autumn, along the river- 
shore. 

Least Sandpiper. Tringa minidilla. 

Irregularly abundant, in spring and autumn, along the river- 
shore. 

Sanderling. Calidris arenaria. 

Single specimens of this coast species are so frequently found 
associated with other u sand- snipe," that it may properly be con- 
sidered as a spring and autumn visitant. Indeed, it is doubtful if 
not all of the marine waders do not occasionally come so far inland. 



472 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Telltale. Totanus melanoleucus. 

Common during the spring, summer, and early part of autumn. 

Yellow Shanks. Totanus flavipes. 

Even more abundant than the preceding, with which they are 
usually associated. 

Solitary. Totanus solitarius. 

Common. Migratory. Frequents upland localities. 

Teeter. Tringoides macularius. 

Abundant everywhere from May to October, both inclusive. 

Field-Plover. Actiturus Bartramius. 

"Plentiful from the middle of April till late in September" 
(Turnbull). 

Great Blue Heron. Ardea Herodias. 

" Common, arriving in April. A few, however, remain during 
winter " (Turnbull). 

This species is quite common near Bordentown, New Jersey, on 
the meadows. 

Great "White Heron. Herodias egretta. 

" Rather rare, arriving about the middle of May " (Turnbull). 

Snowy Egret. Garzetta candidissima. 

A few are seen every summer, along the Delaware River, asso- 
ciated with herons of other species. 

Blue Heron. Florida coerulea. 

" Rare " (Turnbull). I am surprised to find this species men- 
tioned as rare in New Jersey. It is always abundant about the 
meadows and river-banks, from Trenton southward to the capes. 

Green Heron. Butorides virescens. 

Abundant. Migratory. April to October, both inclusive. 

Night-Heron. Nyctiardea grisea. 

Abundant. Migratory and resident to a limited extent. 

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron. Nyctherodius violaceus. 
" A rare straggler from the south " (Turnbull). I have found 
it frequently along the river, north of Trenton, New Jersey. 






APPENDIX. 473 

Bittern. Boiaurus lentiginosus. 

Common. It comes to us early in April and remains until the 
autumn is well spent. 

Least Bittern. Ardetta exilis. 

Frequent, but not as abundant as the preceding. Migratory. 

Ibis. Ibis falcinellus. 

" Last season (1866) Mr. John Krider shot a specimen just below 
Philadelphia. At long intervals it has been seen on the Eiver Dela- 
ware, and also at Egg Harbor " (Turnbull). It has been found on 
Crosswicks Creek, Mercer County, New Jersey, on two occasions ; 
both specimens being procured. 

King-Rail. Hallus elegans. 

King-Rails frequent the " mucky " meadows of my farm every 
year. In the summer of 1882 ray son found the nest of this bird 
for the first time. It was formed of long, dead grass, with a base 
of small sticks, and was placed at the foot of a low bush. It con- 
tained eight eggs, similar in appearance to those of the common 
Clapper-Rail of our sea-coast. 

Virginia Rail. Rallus Virginianus. 

Very rare along the Delaware River, until the vicinity of salt 
water is reached, where, in the broader stretches of tide-meadows, 
it becomes more frequent. 

Sora. Porzana Carolina. 

" Abundant, arriving from the south early in May. About the 
beginning of August it returns from the north in great numbers, 
and finally leaves us in October. A few remain to breed during 
summer " (Turnbull). 

Yellow Rail. Porzana JYovceboracensis. 

Quite rare. I have seldom seen more than one or two during 
the season. 

Florida Gallinule. Gallinula galeata. 

" A very rare summer visitant, from the middle of May to late 
in October, on the Delaware and Susquehanna" (Turnbull). I 
have seen but the one specimen in New Jersey, which I procured. 
It was found on the meadows bordering Crosswicks Creek. 



474: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Coot. Fulica Americana. 

Common from early in April until late in autumn. Dr. Turnbull 
speaks of it as " rather rare." 

Wild Goose. Branta Canadensis. 
Common. Migratory. 

Mallard. Anas loschas. 
CommoD. Migratory. 

Black Duck. Anas obscura. 
Common. Migratory. 

Sprig-Tail. Dafila acuta. 
Common. Migratory. 

Widgeon. Mareca Americana. 
Common. Migratory. 

Blue-winged Teal. Querquedula discors. 
Common. Migratory. 

Green-winged Teal. Nettion Carolinensis. 
Common. Migratory. 

Wood-Duck. Aix sponsa. 

Common. Resident and migratory. They breed in hollow- 
trees, in large numbers, and I have seen them as frequently during 
winter as in summer. 

Buffle-headed Duck. JBucephala albeola. 

Common. Migratory. During the freshets of winter and early 
spring almost all the marine species of ducks are found in greater 
or less numbers along the river. Geese, brant, and broad-bills, es- 
pecially, are often killed; and numbers of canvas-backs and red- 
heads, also, but less frequently. The list given, excepting the 
goose, are those that are usually found when there is a " flight of 
wild fowl." 

Gull. Larus argentatus. 

Common, immediately after northeast storms. 

Gull. Larus Delawarensis. 

Common after storms. Abundant nearer Delaware Bay. 



APPENDIX. 475 

Occasionally, single gulls are seen inland, or flying over the 
river — not only those mentioned, but other species. 

Tern. Sterna hirundo. 

Occasionally, and particularly after severe easterly storms, terns 
are quite abundant about the river. They never remain, however, 
more than two or three days. 

Loon. Colymbus torquatus. 

Not uncommon during autumn and winter, and occasionally 
seen in summer. 

Red-throated Diver. Colymbus septentrionalis. 

I saw a specimen of this diver that was killed on the river in 
February, 1879. I carefully examined the specimen a few hours 
after it was shot. 

Crested Grebe. Podiceps cristatus. 

Every winter, specimens of this bird are killed on the river. 

Devil-Di ver. Podilymb us podiceps. 

Common. Migratory, but irregularly so. 

Reptiles. 
Land-Turtle, or Box-Tortoise. Cistudo clausa. 
Muhlenberg's Turtle. Chelopus Muhlenbergii. 
Rough-backed Turtle. Chelopus insculptus. 
Speckled Turtle. Nanemys guttatus. 

Blanding's Turtle. JEmys meleagris. 

The species that I take to be the above is exceedingly rare, and, 
if not the same, is a nondescript. It does not in every particular 
agree with the descriptions of the species as given by authors gener- 
ally. 

Painted Turtle. Chrysemys pieta. 

Red-bellied Turtle. Pseudemys rugosa. 

Mud-Digger. Cinosternum Pennsylvanicum. 

Stinking-Turtle. Aromochelys odoratus. 

Snapper. Chelydra serpentina. 



476 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME, 

Fence-Lizard. Sceloporus undulatus. 

These lizards are yearly becoming more scarce, as the areas of 
woodland are being " cut off." 

Hog-nosed Snake. Heterodon platyrhinus. 
Water-Snake. Tropidonotus sipedon. 
Leather-Snake. Tropidonotus leberis. 
Brown Snake. Storeria De Kayi. 
Slender Garter-Snake. Eutcenia saurita. 
Garter-Snake. Eutcenia sirtalis. 
Black Snake. Bascanion constrictor. 
Green Snake. Oyclqphis cestivus. 
Ring-necked Snake. Diadophus jpunctatus. 

Chain-Snake. Ophibolus doliatus. 

This snake is also known as " thunder and lightning " snake. 

Blind-Worm. Carphophiops amcena. 

Batrachiaks. 
Spring-Frog. Rana halecina 
Pickerel-Frog. Rana palustns. 
Green Frog. Rana clamitans. 
Bull-Frog. Rana Catesbiana. 
Wood-Frog. Rana terwporaria. 
Spade-Foot Toad. Scajphiqpus solitarius. 
Tree-Toad. Hyla versicolor. 
Pickering's Tree-Toad. Hyla Pickeringii. 
Peeper. Acris crepitans. 
Toad. Bufo lentiginosus. 

Spotted Triton. Diemyctylus viridescens. 
Dusky Salamander. Desmognaihus fusca. 



APPENDIX. 477 

Red-backed Salamander. Plethodon erythronotus. 

Red Triton. Spelerpes ruber. 

Purple Salamander. Gyrinophilus porphyriticus. 

Tiger-Triton. Amblystoma tigrinu?n. 

There are other salamanders found in Mercer County, I am con- 
fident, but only the above have I been able positively to identify. 
Of the latter species, I have seen but the one specimen. 

Hellbender. Menopoma Alleghaniense. 

Accidental. Believed to have escaped from a traveling " show." 

Fishes. 

Hog-Fish, Sand-Percb. Percina caprodes. 
Darter. Boleosoma Olmstedi. 
Crimson Darter. Poeeilichthys erochrous. 
Darter. Poeeilichthys fusiforme. 

Yellow Perch. Perca Jlavescens. 
Rock-Fish. Poccus lineatus. 
White Perch. Poccus Americanus. 
Mud Sunfish. Acantharcus pomotis. 
River Sunfish. Zepomis auritus. 

Blue Sunfish. Zepomis pallidus. 

Bare. Single specimens, now and then, have been found in the 
Delaware. 

Sunny. Zepomis gibbosus. 

Banded Sunfish. Mesogonistius chcetodon. 

Spotted Sunfish. Enneacanthus simulans. 

Spotted Sunfish. Enneacanthus obesus. 

The first mentioned of these " spotted " sunfish is extremely 
abundant, but the other is uncommon. Very probably they are 
not distinct. 






478 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 

Goggle-eyed Perch. Pomoxys sparoides. 

Only occasional specimens met with in the river. 
Pirate. Aphododerus Sayanus. 

Mud-Blower, or Ling. Lota maculosa. 
Discovered in the Delaware Eiver in 1883. 

Stickleback. Apeltes quadracus. 
Rare in the inland streams. 

Eiver Minnow, Blunt Heads. Fundulus diaphanus. 

River Minnow. Fundulus nigrofasciatus. 

There are two other species, which, I believe, occasionally ascenc 
the river as far as Mercer County. Those mentioned are exceeding- 
ly abundant, particularly the former. 

Mud Minnow. Umbra limi. 

Bill-Fish, Silvery Gar, " Snippick." Belone acutirostris. 

Pike. Esox reticulatus. 

Ditch-Pike. Esox fasciatus. 

Smelt. Osmerus mordax. 

Rare in the Delaware, but common in other rivers of the State. 

Shad. Alosa sapidissima. 

Alewif e. Pomolobus pseudoharengus. 

Gizzard Shad, Dory soma cepedianum. 

Blunt-nosed Minnow. Hyborhynchus notatus. 
Silvery Minnow. Hybognaihus nuchalis. 
Spawn-Eater. Cliola Hudsonia. 
Smelt-Shiner. Cliola Storeriana. 
Minnie. Cliola procne. 
Silver Pin. Cliola analostana. 
Red Pin. Minnilus cornutus. 
Minnie. Minnilus chalybceus. 



APPENDIX. 479 

itosy Minnow. Minnilus amoenus. 

This species was discovered and described by me in 1873. (See 
'American Naturalist," vol. viii, p. 334.) 

^losy Dace. Squalius funduloides. 

Joach. Notemigonus chrysoleucus. 

Minnie. Hemitremia bifre?iata. 

3hub. Semotilus corjporalis. -* 

Jhub. Semotilus lullaris. 

Long-nosed Dace. Hhinichthys nasutus. 

Black-nosed Dace. Hhinichthys atronasus. 

Sucker. Myxostoma macrolepidota. 
M/ullet. Chub-Sucker. Erimyzon sucetta. 
5£ud-Sucker. Hypentelium nigricans. 
River-Sucker. Catostomus communis. 
River-Sucker. Carjpiodes cyjprinus. 

Catfish. Ichthcelwnts jpxmctatus. 
Catfish. Amiurus catus. 
3tone-Cat. Noturus gyrinus. 

Eel. A nguilla rostrata. 
Grar. Lepidosteus osseus. 
Sturgeon. Acipenser stario. 
Sturgeon. Acipenser brevirostris. 
Lamprey. Petromyzon marinus. 

There are other species of fresh -water fishes, than those 
enumerated, in the valley of the Delaware River ; some of 
which are confined to the mountainous regions, north of the 
county boundaries ; others do not wander so far inland 
from the sea-coast as Mercer County, except on rare occa- 
sions. 



INDEX. 



Acantharcus pomotis, 367, 435. 
Acris crepitans, 330. 
Adder, spotted, 302, 303. 
^Egialitis melodus, 201. 
Agassiz, L., 271, 418. 

American, testudinata, 251, 256. 

habits of spade-foot toad, 346. 
Agelaeus phoeniceus, 117. 
Aix sponsa, 237. 
Albany, New York, 398. 
Alee Americanus, 17. 
Amiurus catus, 435. 
" American Naturalist," 15, 304, 382, 

388. 
Anguilla rostrata, 428, 435. 
Ants, nests of, in wood, 65. 
Aphrodederus sayanus, 388, 435. 
Ardea exilis, 22, 227. 
Argyll, Duke of, songs of American 

birds, 93. 
Aromochelys odoratus, 267. 
Arvicola riparia, 65. 
Assunpink Creek, 364, 414. 
Audubon, J. J., winter pelage of 
weasels, 27. 

song of saw-whet owl, 220. 

Baird, S. R, 383. 

Bartram, John, on habits of black 
bear, 18. 

William, 10. 
Bascanion constrictor, 284. 
Batrachians, intelligence of, 345. 

short studies of, 312. 
Bear, black, 17, 18. 
Beaver, 17, 19. 

Beaver-tree, magnolia glauca, 19. 
Beeches, three, 191. 
21 



Belone acutirostris, 397, 435. 
Bill-fish, 397, 435. 
Birds, 93. 

ancestral form of, 124. 

migration of, 97, 164. 

nests of, 124. 

songs of, 136. 
Bison, 17. 

Bison Americanus, 17. 
Bittern, 234. 

least, 227. 
Black-bass, 367. 
Black-birds, red-winged, 117. 
Blarina brevicauda, 64, 449. 
Botaurus lentiginosus, 234. 
Boleosoma Olmstedi, 358. 
Bream, copper-nosed, 375. 
Bubo Virginianus, 221. 
Bufo Americanus, 337. 
Butorides virescens, 234. 

Campanius, Thomas, account of rat- 
tle-snakes in New Jersey, 
283. 

Canada, 353. 

Canis lupus, 17. 

Cariacus Yirginianus, 17. 

Carphophiops amoena, 306. 

Carver, Captain Jonathan, on habits 
of tree-toads, 329. 

Castor fiber, 17, 19. 

Catalpa, seed-vessels of, 199. 

Cat-birds, 142. 

Cat-fish, 425, 435. 

Catostomoids, 422. 

Cats, wild, 22, 24. 

Centropyxis aculeata, 381. 

Cervus Canadensis, 17. 



482 



INDEX. 



Ceryle alcyon, 214. 

Chaetura pelagica, 134, 174. 

Champlain, Samuel, 431. 

Charlevoix, on habits of gar, 431. 

Chat, yellow-breasted, 145. 

Chausarou (see Gar, 431). 

Chelydra serpentina, 269. 

Chelopus Muhlenbergii, 255. 
insculptus, 253. 

Chewink, 141. 

Chipmunk, 58. 

storing of food by, 62. 

Chironomus, larvae of, 380, 384. 

Chrysemys picta, 257. 

Chub, 407. 

Cinosternum Pennsylvanicum, 265. 

Cliola Hudsonia, 413. 

Cooper's Creek, Camden County, N. 
J., 388. 

Cope, Edward D., on cyprinidae of 
Pennsylvania, 436. 

Copper-bellies, 367. 

Corner, a secluded, 183. 

Corvus Americanus, 142. 

Cotyle riparia, 161. 

Coues, Dr. Elliott, on climbing pow- 
ers of skunks, 39. 
on habits of Tengmalm's owl, 219. 

Cougar, former abundance of, in 
New Jersey, 8, 17. 

Cranes, 230. 

Crosswicks Creek, 7, 46, 364, 397, 
413, 417, 418, 423, 424. 

Crotalus horridus, 285. 

Crows, 142. 

Cuvier, 372. 

Cyanurus cristatus, 191. 

Cyclophis aestivus, 300. 

Cyclops quadricornis, 380, 384. 

Cyprinodonts, 389. 

Cyprinoids, 402. 

Dace, black-nosed, 419. 

long-nosed, 420. 
Daphnia, sp., 380, 384. 
Darter, crimson, 360. 

Olmsted's, 358. 
Darwin, Professor Charles, 214. 
Deer, 17. 
DeKay, James E., 64, 264, 326, 336, 

398, 405, 413. 
Delaware River, 7, 9, 156, 180, 351, 

354, 361, 363, 381, 385, 422. 



Desmognathus fusca, 342. 
Diadophis punctatus, 301. 
Didelphys Virgin! ana, 84. 
Diemyctelus viridescens, 340. 
Dorysoma cepedianum, 399. 
Duck, wood, 237. 

Eels, 428, 435. 

Egrets, 228. 

Elk, 17. 

Emys meleagris, 253. 

England, fishes of, 363. 

Enneacanthus simulans, 382. 

obesus, 382. 
Eremophila cornuta, 210. 
Erimyzon sucetta, 435. 
Ermine, 27. 
Eskimos, 210. 
Etheostomoids, 355. 
Eutaenia sirtalis, 294. 

saurita, 295. 

Felis concolor, 8, 17. 
Fiber zibethicus, 23, 73. 
Fire-flies, 313. 
Fishes, 351. 

courtship of, 408, 438. 

traces of voice in, 433. 
Flying squirrel, 51. 
Forster, John Reinhold, on hiberna- 
tion of swallows, 159. 
Forbes, Professor S. A., on food of 

fishes, 387, 411. 
Frog, bull, 319. 

pickerel, 316. 

spring, 318. 

wood, 324, 348. 

Galeoscoptes Carolinensis, 142. 
Galton, Professor J. C, on voice of 

fishes, 445. 
Gar, 430. 

Garzetta candidissima, 228 
Gaunt, Uz., 12, 201, 242, 276, 300, 

307. 
Gizzard, shad, 399. 
Godman, John D., 71. 
Goggle-eyed perch, 367. 
Goniaphea Ludoviciana, 198. 
Grosbeaks, rose-breasted, 198. 
Grus Canadensis, 230. 

Herodias egretta, 231. 



INDEX. 



483 



Herons, 226. 

green, 234. 

night, 234. 

snowy, 228. 

white, 231. 
Hesperomys leucopus, 68. 
Heterodon platyrhinus, 302. 
Hinckley, Mary H., on life-history of 

tree-toad, 327. 
Hirundo horreorum, 173. 
Hog-fish, 355. 
Eolbrook, Dr. John Edward, on gait 

of snapping-turtle, 269. 
Holland, John G., on uniformity of 

songs of birds, 138. 
Holder, C. F., on habits of fresh- 
water fishes, 384. 
Hoop-snake, 169. 
Horned larks, 210. 
Hudson River, 398. 

valley of, 156. 
Hyla Pickeringii, 330. 
Hylodes gryllus, 330. 
Hypentelium nigricans, 423. 

Ichthaelurus punctatus, 425. 
Icteria virens, 145. 
Icterus, Baltimore, 129, 138. 

spurius, 132. 
Indians, North American, 18. 

shells, heaps formed by, 423. 

Jay, blue, 191. 
Jerboa, 31. 

Jordan, David S., manual of N. A. ver- 
tebrates, by, quoted, 64, 355. 
Jumping-mouse, 31. 

Kalm, Peter, 18, 20, 49, 56, 73, 84, 
133, 159, 171, 230, 284, 285, 
290, 313, 319, 322, 323, 324. 

King-fishers, feeding habits of, 214. 

King-rail, 22. 

Lamprey, 435, 441. 
Lampvris, sp., 313. 
Least "bittern, 22, 227. 
Lepidosteus osseus, 430. 
Lepomis auritus, 367, 372. 

gibbosus, 375. 

pallidus, 375. 
Lincccum, Dr., on habits of opossum, 
92. 



Lutra Canadensis, 23, 46. 
Lynx rufus, 22, 24. 

Mammals, extinction of large, 18. 

storing of food by, 77. 
Manual of vertebrates, Jordan's, 64. 
Mastodon, 17. 
Meadow-mouse, 65. 
Melanura limi, 390. 
Mephitis*mephitica, 3S, 279. 
Mercer County, N". J., 15. 
Mesogonistius cha&todon, 380. 
Mice, wild, 64. 
Micropterus salmoides, 367. 
Milne-Edward, on skin respiration 

of frogs, 274. 
Mink, 34. 
Minnilus amcemig, 417. 

cornutus, 409, 434. 
Minnows, mud, 390. 

pug-nosed, 411. 

rosy, 417. 

silvery, 414. 
Moose, 17. 

Morris, Dr. Chest on, sunfish de- 
scribed by, 383. 
Mouse, meadow, 65. 

white-footed, 68. 
Mud-sucker, 423. 
Mud sunfish, 367, 435. 
Musk-rat, 23, 73. 
Mullet, 435. 

"Nature," quoted, 15. 

Nanemys guttatus, 261. 

Newbold's Island, rock-fish caught 

near, 364. 
New Jersey, geology of, 388. 

snakes found in, 283. 
New Sweden, 19. 
Norris, Mr. Isaac, on climate of New 

Jersey, 79. 
Notemigonus chrysoleucus, 403. 
Nyctale Acadica, 218, 220, 224. 

Tengmalmi, 219. 
Nyctiardea grisea, 234. 

Olmsted's darter, 358. 
Opossum, 84. 
Ophibolus doliatus, 302. 
Oriole, Baltimore, 129, 138. 

orchard, 132. 
Otter, 23, 46. 



484 



INDEX. 



Otus brachyotus, 185. 
Owl, barn, 221. 

great-horned, 221. 

saw-whet, 218, 220, 224. 

short-eared, 185. 

Tengmalm's, 219. 
Owls, as weather-prophets, 222. 

food of, 223. 

Peeper, 330. 

Perca flavescens, 360, 435. 

Perch, goggle-eyed, 367, 385. 

pirate, 386, 435. 

sand, 355. 

white, 366. 

yellow, 360, 435. 
Percina caprodes, 355. 
Peschel, Oscar, 433. * 
Petrochelidon lunifrons, 171. 
Petromyzon marinus, 435, 441. 
Pickering's tree-toad, 330. 
Pike-shiner, 418. 
Pipilo erythrophthalmus, 141. 
Pisidium, sp., 384. 
Plethodon erythronotus, 343. 
Plover, 201, 203, 205. 
Poecelichthys erochrous, 360. 
Pomoxys sparoides, 367. 
" Popular Science Monthly," quoted, 

15. 
Porzana Carolina, 180. 
Princeton, N. J., observations on mi- 
gration of birds made at, 164. 
Pseudemys rugosa, 264. 
Putnam, Professor F. W., on habits 

of spade-foot toad, 346. 
Putorius ermineus, 27. 

vison, 34. 
Pyrgites domestious, 5, 195. 

Rail-bird, king, 22. 

little, or sora, 180. 
Rain, a southerly, 242. 
Rallus elegans, 22. 
Rana Catesbyana, 319. 

clamitans, 318. 

halecina, 317. 

palustris, 316. 

temporaria, 324, 348. 
Rangifer caribou, 17. 
Red-fins, 409, 434. 
Reindeer, 17. 



Rhinichthys atronasus, 419. 

nasutus, 420. 
Rhizopods, 381. 
Roach, 403. 

Robin, variation in nests of, 125. 
Roccus Americanus, 366. 

lineatus, 363. 
Rock-fish, 363. 

Rodentia, monograph of North Amer- 
ican, 64. 
Romanes, George J., on animal in- 
telligence, 345. 

Salamanders, 339. 

dusky, 342. 

red, 344. 

red-backed, 343. 
Sandpipers, 201. 
Scaphiopus solitarius, 325. 
"Science," quoted, 15. 
" Science-Gossip," quoted, 15. 
Sciuropterus volucella, 51. 
Scott, W. D., on migration of birds 

at night, 164. 
Semotilus bullaris, 407. 

corporalis, 409. 
Semper, Carl, on skin respiration of 

frogs, 274. 
Shabbaconk Creek, 388. 
Shiners, 402. 
Shrews, 64, 449. 
Sill-hoppe tosser, 313. 
" Signal Service Notes, No. IX.," 56. 
Skunk, 38, 279. 
Snakes, 282, 297, 298, 303. 
Snake, black, 284. 

blind, 306 

brown, 294. 

chain, 302. 

cricket, 306. 

garter, 294. 

green, 300. 

ground, 306. 

hog-nosed, 287, 310. 

hoop, 169. 

rattle, 285. 

red, 306. 

ribbon, 295. 

ring, 301. 

thunder and lightning, 302. 

water, 291, 307. 
Snappers, 269, 276. 
Spade-foot toad, 325. 



INDEX. 



485 



Sparrow, English, 5, 194. 
Spawn-eater, 413. 
Spelerpes ruber, 344. 
Squalius funduloides, 418. 
Squirrels, 19. 
Squirrel, flying, 51, 179. 
Stacy, Mahlon, on fishes of the Dela- 
ware River, 363. 
Stokes, Dr. Alfred C, on food of 

sunfishes, 380. 
Strix pratincola, 221. 
Suckers, 422. 
Sunfishes, 367. 
Sunfish, banded, 380. 

brass-belly, 372. 

common, 375. 4-3 £"/ 

spotted, 382. 
Swallows, hibernation of, 159. 
Swallow, bank, 161. 

barn, 173. 

cliff, 171. 
Swift, chimney, 134, 174. 

Tamias striatus, 58. 
Terrier, skye, 39. 

Thomas, Gabriel, on flying-squirrels, 
56. 

on bull-frogs, 322. 

on tree-toads, 327. 

on rock-fish, 363. 
Thompson, Zadoc, u History of Ver- 
mont," 391. 
Thryothorus Bewickii, 149. 

Ludovicianus, 6, 153. 
Toad, common hop, 337. 
Tortoise, box, 250. 
Tree-toads, 326. 
Trenton, New Jersey, 313, 364. 



Triton, spotted, 340. 
Troglodytes asdon, 192. 
Tropidonotus sipedon, 291. 
Turkey-buzzard, 24. 
Turnbull, Dr. William, on birds of 
East Pennsylvania and New 
Jersev, 236. 
Turtles, 250,' 276, 281. 

voice of, 259. 
Turtle, Blanding's, 253. 

Muhlenberg's, 255. 

mud, 265. 

musk, 267. 

painted, 257. 

red-bellied, 264. 

rough-backed, 253. 

snapping, 269, 276. 

spotted, 261. 

Ursus Americanus, 17, 18. 
"Vermont, History of," quoted, 391. 

Wallace, A. R., on philosophy of 
birds' nests, 124, 129. 

Wallerius, Dr., on hibernation of 
swallows, 159. 

Watson's Creek, 202, 384, 385, 413, 
426. 

Weasels, 27. 

Weed, Jamestown, 6. 

Winter, a walk in, 209. 

Wolf, 17. 

Wren, Bewick's, 149. 
Carolina, 6, 153. 
house, 192. 

Zapus Hudsonius, 31. 



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